


True Colours - (first year)

by ModernDayWeeaboo



Series: Colours [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Dark Harry, F/M, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Hogwarts First Year, Legilimency, M/M, Occlumency, Parseltongue, Powerful Harry, Slytherin Harry, Smart Harry, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 154,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernDayWeeaboo/pseuds/ModernDayWeeaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark Lord was at the peak of his power, so close to controlling wizarding Britain. When his most loyal brings him news of a prophecy, he acts in a demented manner. Before he can leave his study, a seer that had presumed deceased appear and recited a new prophecy regarding a future Death Eater that would change the world. His careless actions regarding the two prophecies have dire consequences for anyone caught in the middle. One such person being Harry James Potter.</p><p>A more in-depth, less generic, Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived fic.</p><p>Part 1 – 7.<br/>Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone rewrite<br/>Rewritten: 29/March/2016—revised: In Progress (18/12/2016).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go to Chapter 23 for more in-depth notes.
> 
> I haven't got a beta! I apologise for any mistakes.

_Old Name_ : Growing Up (part I)

 _New Name_ : The Beginning

 _Rewritten_ : 12/Feb/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

“I don’t trust him, James,” said Lily, putting down her sleeping child into his crib. “I know that he’s your best friend, and that you trust him… but I just don’t.”

James always praised his wife for being rather perceptive, even if it came as a hindrance later on. He found that she would say what exactly was on her mind, regardless of who it was about, but she was also gentle and caring.

“He pushed us to make that change,” she continued, fussing about with her son and his blankets that lined the crib. “I have no idea why he would even want to be our Secret Keeper. Sirius was by far the better option, or even Albus himself.” Sighing, she stood up and glanced out the window, which had droplets of water racing down it. “I love you, James, perhaps more than you know, but now that we have Harry, I must protect him, James, I must.”

James knew deep down that his wife was correct, in almost every single point she had made in the last few minutes. He debated whether he should speak or just let his wife continue to rant and get it all out of her. He chose the former.

“I’m an Auror, Lils, you know that I have training –”

“You are, and you do,” said Lily, her voice soft. “But You-Know-Who knows more spells and curses then we could ever attempt to learn.”

James took a rather large stride forwards, closing the distance between them in two quick strides, towards his wife and wrapped her into a warm and tight hug, one that she should feel safe in.

“It’ll be alright,” he soothed, kissing Lily’s forehead. “I trust you, Lily, more then you’ll ever know. Albus contacted me recently –”

“He did? What did he contact you for, James?” asked Lily, her bright green eyes surveying her husband eagerly.

“– and he informed me that there might be a traitor in the Order,” continued James, as if his wife never spoke. “At first we assumed Remus, due to his status as a werewolf and such as being a dark creature.”

He noticed the scowl on his wife’s face and he chuckled light-heartedly, “calm down, Lily. You of all people should know that I’d never judge or throw out Remus because of that, but we had to do our rounds and figure it all out before we mentioned it to anyone else.”

“I see. And who did you suspect?”

“Too many people, Lily, too many people.” he trailed off, with a sigh.

With a three month old son, he could hardly afford to mess around with things like this, his wife had retired from her very minor position as a field healer for the Order and her part-time job at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He knew that the latter for her was a very big thing as she always wanted to help people, help them live and breathe as she did herself.

“Do you think that Dumbledore is being entirely honest with us?” he threw out quickly, wondering if it was worth the upcoming battle over how trusted he was.

Scowling, Lily turned and locked eyes with her husband, “you shouldn’t talk about Albus like that, James,” turning away, she continued with typical Gryffindor bravado. “He did everything that he could have to help us get through the tough pregnancy I had with Harry, and even then protect us from threats.”

“I know, but –”

“– and then of course allowing us to miss a few Order meetings so that I could rest and relax, as he did with Alice and Frank.”

“Yes, but –”

“– he didn’t have to give us any time off, James, yet he did,” finished Lily, a rare determined look in her eyes.

Flicking a few strands of dark red hair from her face, she shifted away from her sleeping child and husband.

“You know, I may floo Severus and invite him over for a nice cup of tea,” said Lily, shifted around in her pocket for something. “Perhaps he can tell me something about what’s going on.”

James had patched up things, very minoring, with his old school nemesis. He never really hated the man during school, he was just a kid and found pranking to be a good way to blow off steam. The constant rejections from Lily did him in the head.

Even then, he didn’t exactly enjoy spending anytime with Severus. He opted to spending time with his son or in his study preparing things for work.

“I’ll be inviting him over in a moment,” said Lily, shifting out the door. “Would you like me to ask Sirius to come over, or are you fine moodily brooding in your study?”

“I’m fine, enjoy your time with Severus,” muttered James, watching his wife flash a bright smile and then listening to her footsteps as she softly walked down the stairs.

He stood there, completely still, for just a few minutes listening to his wife speaking through the floo. He glanced down and glanced at his sleeping son, his light in a dark world. Not sure what he should do, he cupped his face into his hands and let out a very long, yet quiet sigh.

“I’m not sure what to do, Harry,” he muttered softly to his son, not that he would be hear, or understood.

It really was a hard choice, one that he had hoped that he would never have to make. He could stay here, in this very house, which was rather well protected, even from the Dark Lord or he could pick up his family and move away to a new place and just wait out the war.

It was a highly selfish thought, and he knew that, as his friends would be fighting and he would be hiding away like a coward.

The wards that surrounded their current home in Godric’s Hallow were almost as good as the ones at Hogwarts, it was impressive. But this was one of few houses that the Potter family had, opting to only have a few instead of like a few families who had more houses then they had sense. Even if Peter did decide to betray them, if he was the traitor, the large assortment of wards should stop anyone trying to harm them. Sadly, he had very little knowledge on the subject, as he never studied it.

“Don’t worry, Harry, daddy will protect you and mummy, just you wait,” he said softly to his son. He extinguished the light in the room and fled to his study, preparing to go over a few notes.

* * *

Lily realized that the floor to Severus’ house was disconnected and she sighed. Pulling herself upwards, she made her way towards the small table in the sitting room and began to look around for an inkpot and a quill, which was oddly vacant from its usual perch near the parchment.

Once she had found some, she quickly wrote a letter for Sirius and Remus, knowing that the two would be together or they’d find each other, saving her the effort of writing out two letters, even if she could duplicate the letters.

Pulling out another piece of parchment, one that was reserved for more formal letters as this was all that she could find, she began to pen a letter to her best friend. She held only the highest amount of appreciation possible for Severus, and it was because of his actions that allowed her and James to sort of make leeway with the man. As soon as Severus learned that Lily was at risk of losing Harry mid-way through the pregnancy, Severus had done everything that he could to assist her with potions, and tips that he had learned over the years. She knew that Severus had no intention of ever having a child of his own, because he only ever seemed to have one love interest, which she felt slightly bad for, but she did help the man to try and move on.

**✧**

**Lily Potter**

Thursday, 15/10/80

_Dear Severus,_

_I would like to apologize in advance if this letter finds you at a bad time, the floo just so happened to be down, or disconnected. I assume you have once more forgotten to pay your bill for having the floo connection open, as usual._

_I have made a fresh batch of tea and biscuits, and I know how much you love both, despite your outward façade of sneering and scowling at anything that may appear to be cheerful._

_James will most likely be out or hiding himself in his study, trying to figure out something that he refuses to even inform me about. I have an inkling that he’ll leave though, he needs to visit Sirius and Remus tonight and will not take no for an answer, from either of them. Actually, you’ll find that he wishes to visit Sirius, and that Remus will just be there, as the man is pretty much a shadow for Sirius, not that I fault the man for it._

_Harry has already fallen asleep, not that I believe his little act of sleeping so early, so I doubt that he’ll be asleep for much longer as he never falls asleep this early, and I can prove that with pensieve memories. I think that he was just putting on a show or was slightly tired, so he fussed to get a nice twenty minute nap so that he wouldn’t be grumpy. Such a smart child._

_I apologize in advance (I know that I said this on the first line), if you’re in the process of brewing and my owl finds you in the potions room or lab (as you tend to call it) and sits on your counter, staring intimately at you and your potion ingredients. She’ll never cause them harm, she watches me brew occasionally, or at least, she used to._

_Don’t even bother starting with your typical ‘owls don’t belong in a potion brewing room’ tirade, you know that she’ll never listen to me in that aspect._

_No need to reply to the letter, just come over whenever you can. The wards will allow you to enter without much hassle._

_Oh, and please allow my owl to have something to eat and drink, she’s getting old._

_Regards,_

_Lily Potter_

She allowed the letter to dry for a few minutes while she actually got the tea ready, no point in lying about that. She noticed that her owl was already in the sitting room when she returned.

“Hello there, girl,” she cooed at the feathery fiend, as James called it. “Feel like taking a letter?”

The owl hooted in obvious displeasure at being asked such a moronic question.

“Please take this to Severus Snape, who lives in Spinner’s End. You know the exact location of his house, I assume.”

She watched as the owl flew out of the window the moment she had attached the letter to its leg. Her happy musing was distracted when some bad thoughts came to mind, bad thoughts she had to tell Severus before he found out from someone else.

* * *

Severus was attempting to improve on a potion that he had invented shortly after he had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the fact that he was the youngest potions master in many centuries, he wasn’t have any luck with it.

He heard a soft tapping against his window and he scowled, throwing down the ingredients that he was chopping finely and walked with a sneer on his face to meet the bird.

“A letter for me?” he said with a confused expression, seeing as not many bothered to actually owl him letters. “Go on then, you cretin, go drink some water or something, you look tired.”

An angry hoot was his reply from the bird.

Moving towards the single armchair, that looked worse for wear, he slumped into it, the letter in hand. He read the letter at a quick pace and smiled at the contents, a very rare smile that was quickly concealed when he realized what he was doing.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

Standing up to shoo away the bird, he realized that it was already gone, not wasting time sticking around for him to even give it a reply.

Not wasting any time, he quickly retrieved his coat from a nearby hanging hook and placed his potion in a stasis, which would most likely ruin it, not that he cared, it was a failed attempted anyway. The moment he stepped outside the chilly October air sent chills up his spine. He began to walk towards the apparation point on his property; he kept his mind clear and set off at a brisk pace, his feet crunching the damp grass below his shoes.

He let out a long breath as he apparated towards Godric’s Hollow. He landed across the street from the Potter house; he kept his features blank as he walked towards the front door. Before he could even knock on the door, Lily burst out and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Thank you! Thank you!” cried Lily repeatedly, pulling away from the almost one-sided embrace she sent him a warm smile. “Please come in. I’m so glad that you came, you have no idea.”

Severus couldn’t help the small smiled that graced his usually scowling lips. He followed her in and sat in the sitting room, the floor had a large assortment of toys thrown around in it.

He was about to speak when he heard a noise, clearly coming from upstairs.

“Sorry about that, I’ll just go and grab Harry,” said Lily, darting from the room with the speed of a vampire. “Be right back,” she threw over her shoulder.

Sitting down on the comfortable sofa, Severus glanced around the room, looking at the details as if he would remember their position for all eternity. The sofa that he was currently sitting on was positioned in a way that the warmth from the fireplace would instantly cover the sofa first, which then of course, the warmth would spread out to other parts of the room and finally end up in the dining room.

He knew that Lily didn’t exactly employ the use of a house-elf and she did a majority of the cleaning herself, seeing as all it took was a flick of a wand to clean up.

His eyes instantly sought out the small bookcase that was covering a blank wall and he scanned their titles, which appeared to be mostly books on various charms, but it was mostly potion books.

It wasn’t long before the sound of a child, travelled down the stairs.

The noise caused him to begin musing silently on what had happened over the last few months, as the entire situation was a miracle. Never would he have thought that speaking to lily in the Order a few times would have been enough to rekindle an almost broken friendship that was teetering on the edge, much like a pool that had no way for water to be turned off.

A lot of people assumed that their friendship ended due to the fact that he had called her a Mudblood after he was humiliated by James Potter, perhaps that was the best way that it got around, but he, and the other Slytherins, knew better.

Severus was already dabbling in Dark Arts before he was beyond his third year, and Lily never faulted him for it. But it was when he started to hang out with future Death Eaters that their friendship took a massive turn for the worst.

“Sorry about taking so long,” said Lily, unaware that she had just broken a rather long thought train. “Harry wasn’t sure whether he wanted to sleep or actually get up and roam around. As you can see, after a bit of coaxing, he chose the latter.”

Severus watched in amusement as the child attempted to pull his mother’s hair. “That’s quite alright, Lily,” he said softly, not wanting his normally rough voice to startle the child, who looked like he was far too fragile to be anywhere near him. “I entertained myself with your books, quite a collection you have – are you alright, Lily?”

“Honestly?” said Lily, almost sadly. “I have no idea if anything will work out as it has been planned. I don’t know what I should do about the situation, neither James nor I are certain of doing anything that has a risk to it.” She sighed and flicked her head back, adjusting Harry in her lap. “We made Peter our Secret Keeper, and ever since it happened, I have had this nagging feeling that it was a terrible mistake and that it could cost us our lives.”

This was news to Severus, in the last Order meeting, one that Peter was suspiciously absent from, it was suggested discreetly that he was a traitor. Of course, he himself had suspicions, but Dumbledore knew about this, no one else knew about his spying on the Death Eaters.

“James trusts him, which should be enough for me, but I just don’t feel secure knowing that he can pass on the secret of our home to anyone, especially You-Know-Who,” she paused, thinking. “Peter was never very loyal, I feel that he was only placed in Gryffindor because he lacked any notable traits from the other Houses. He has no Hufflepuff loyalty. No wit from Ravenclaw, and he’s far from ambitious.”

“I’m not sure about him myself, but I’ve never seen him around you know where,” said Severus honestly. “He’s either the biggest secret ever, or the trust is misplaced.”

“Peter used to tattle to Minerva frequently when we were in school, even though she would pass it off, she gave the boy an odd frown as he told on his supposed best friends.”

Severus had heard about that one from Lily more than once, and it seemed to be her go-to argument against anything Peter Pettigrew.

During his musing about Peter, he hardly felt extra weight be added onto his body. When he glance dup he was looking deep into baby blue eyes, which belong to none other than Harry Potter.

“Forgive me, Severus,” said Lily, standing near the door. “I’ll make you some tea and then I’ll be right back.”

Leaning back, Severus studied the baby, who was rather small, and thin, especially for his age. He knew at this moment that Harry wouldn’t be as tall or well-built as most children. Whatever happened during the pregnancy caused something to go wrong with the child’s growth, or something. No one was able to put a finger on what happened. Just that it was an extremely close call.

“I’m pretty certain that the smell of tea relaxes Harry,” a voice called from the kitchen. “I assume he inherited that little trait from me. Just another of my amazing qualities that he will grow up with – better than coffee though.”

Severus joined in the laughter.

“How many lumps of sugar?” a pause, “I seem to have forgotten. Earlier today I was standing around, in front of the bookcase, wondering what I was doing.”

“Really, your absent-mindedness is truly character building, Lily. I’m positive that Harry will inherit that one from you too.”

Lily stepped into the room, holding two teacups. “I’m sure he’ll take offense to that,” she set one down in front of Severus, but just out of reach from tiny hands, “trust me.”

“I assume that your stubbornness will most likely follow it,” he couldn’t help but add.

The room filled with genuine laughter after that last statement.

“Have you found any work yet?”

“Not yet,” said Severus, his facial expression just the same. “Despite the fact that I’m one of few potions masters, I feel like work just isn’t coming. The Dark Lord has all but ruined the chances of holding a career in that field as he destroyed most, if not all, the imports from ingredients for the rarer potions.”

A silence filled the room, besides the noise that Harry was making.

“Perhaps it’d be wise to accept the position that Dumbledore offered,” he continued, aware that he held Lily’s attention fully. “I’d have to wait for Slughorn to retire, I assume that it isn’t that far away, he’s getting old.”

Severus took a quick sip of his tea, making sure to be extra careful, that way he didn’t spill any on the now squirming Harry.

“That’s an excellent offer, Severus,” said Lily happily. “He told me to apply for a job as a teacher for Charms when Flitwick retired.”

“I’m sure little Harry would be done with school and beyond by the time that happens.”

Lily snorted into her tea and took a quick sip. “It really is fantastic, Sev, you deserve it. You’re highly talented at potions, and I have no doubts in my mind that the next generation will benefit greatly from your teachings.”

“I honestly don’t have the patience to teach people,” he muttered honestly, not wanting to dive in the subject. “I expect people to know the exact same amount that I know, I’ll never be able to change that.”

Lily let out a sigh, not wanting to go back to the previous topic, but it still pinched at her mind and made her head hurt. She had to get it out.

“As I was saying before,” she begun, “and I really hate talking about this, as it feels so wrong. I do believe that Peter will betray us to You-Know-Who, without a question, call it mother’s intuition. I believe that Peter will inform You-Know-Who that we’ve got a child, and that’s what will be used against us, he’ll strike when we’re unprepared.”

Severus nodded along, listening and attempting to soothe the ever worried Lily. Eventually the son of the distressed mother joined in with the distress and began squirming rather fiercely.

“– I know that it may seem stupid, but I know that we don’t have enough money to outright buy a house. Even if we did that, we wouldn’t be able to afford the other costs involved.”

“What about the Potter Manor?” suggested Severus, wondering why the small Potter family just didn’t live there. “I’m sure that it’d be far more secure than being here, right?”

“James never got the location from his parents,” said Lily, a thoughtful expression on her face. “When James got married to me, his parents allowed us to live here and they moved back to the manor, while we kept in touch, we were never able to actually go there.”

That made sense, as he had no idea where Prince Manor was either, although it was supposedly more of a mansion than a manor. Not as quite old or as ancient as families such as Potter or Malfoy.

“We could dip into the Potter fortune a little, but we made a vow that we’d never use that and that we’d use our own money,” said Lily, once more examining her hands, rather than meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’d rather not touch it at all, though.”

“I believe that everything will work out in the end,” said Severus, holding Harry firm. “You’ll just have to trust me on that, Lily. I don’t doubt that both you and James are natural fighters, not just spell or battle wise, but also survival wise. I’d sooner give up making potions then admit to anything less than that.”

“I appreciate it, Severus,” said Lily, almost tearing up. “I mean it, Severus. I have no idea what I’d do without you.

Severus rubbed his temple slight, there was no headache or any pain. He just felt a little self-conscious.

“I just had a thought,” he said, drawing out the suspension. “Have you ever thought about moving to a place more secure, closer to Hogwarts which means closer to the Order and closer to Dumbledore. I saw a nice house in Hogsmeade just the other day, in fact it was for sale and came with a few things I believe that you’d like. If not for you or James, perhaps for Harry?”

Lily placed her cup of tea down on the table, which slightly wobbled in the process. She made sure that she never met Severus’ eyes, instead, she decided to focus on the wobbly table.

“I assume that in order to buy a home in Hogsmeade, you’d need to buy a shop as well, and I assume that would cost quite a hefty sum that would make even the richest families vaults a sizable dent.”

“You’re correct in that assumption.”

“But they have some of the best security and wards every known, due to the power from Hogwarts seeping into Hogsmeade. There’s a reason why You-Know-Who was never able to touch Hogsmeade.” Lily muttered softly, her eyes still focusing on the table. “It also drove the prices sky-high when people realized it.”

“Well,” said Severus, shifting Harry onto the sofa next to him, instead of his lap, which was now numb. “I don’t want to try and manipulate you into wasting money and buying one, but perhaps there’s a method to get a property for cheaper than usual.”

“I’m not sure,” she said half-heartedly. “I think it would be better to just remain here and lay low. If we owned a shop, or appeared to be in Hogsmeade frequently, he’d grow suspicious, especially with how we escaped his clutches and then he could turn on you, and I’d never want that.”

“Hm, yes, I can see your concern,” said Severus. “I think having one, but appearing to be just visiting and make a huge display of that would be a good idea. Why not just go down regardless and have a look, even if you don’t bother, it’ll be good for you to get out. I know you’ve barely left the house since you were informed that the Dark Lord was searching you.”

He knew that Lily would enjoy the house, it was her style, from what he had learned over the years.

“And how is the man that owns the property, you speak fondly of the house as if you’ve seen it yourself.”

“The man is simply a male form of Molly,” said Severus with a light chuckle, which sounded foreign from his mouth. “He’s very friendly, yet professional.”

Lily nodded along, her bright green eyes focused on the forum of her sleeping son, who had somehow shifted from being asleep on the sofa next to Severus, to being on his lap once more. The scene was so surreal.

“You do know that Harry loves you, Severus,” she said, smiling. “Despite the fact that he’s only a little bit over three months old, he knows who you are. He knows his stuff. You’re one of few that he’ll fall asleep on or near without much of a fuss about where he is. Sirius is the only other that can get him to sleep that isn’t in his crib, and that’s because he can turn into a dog and allows Harry to tug on his fur, almost painfully and cuddle up on it.”

Severus was about to scowl at being compared to that mutt, but was stopped when lily began to speak again.

“He also inherited my genius for potions,” she paused, laughing. “He often watches me brew potions. In three months I can assume he’ll begin making his own potions.”

“I dare assume that’s nothing short of a blatant exaggeration,” Severus muttered with a laugh. “At three months? No six month old child would be able to make a potion, and this is coming from someone who was making potions before I could even run.”

Lily laughed, her smile pretty much reaching her eyes.

“I guess it was,” she said between chokes of laughter. “Don’t tell James, not that you would, but I think that Harry will take after me more than him. He looks a lot like me when I was a baby, at least from what I can remember.”

Before Severus could even think of a jab that he could use against his former nemesis, he was pulled from his thoughts when a slight pain spread over his left forearm. Hissing, he looked up and met worried green eyes.

“I guess the almighty Dark Lord would like to see me,” he muttered bitterly, sarcasm dripping from his words like a waterfall.

Lily’s expression went from amused to concerned in half a second, she instantly stood and began muttering about the fowl Dark Lord.

“Be careful,” she said, watching her friend with a slight motherly care, one that could put Molly to shame. “I mean it Severus. You may act like you can go against the rules and survive. If you must, tell him something about us, hold your spy status well.”

“You need not fret, Lily,” he said softly. “I have done this for many years, and I’m not about to falter now.”

He was just about to open the door when he heard his name being whispered.

“Please, if anything happens to James or I, take Harry and raise him as your own.”

“You’ll survive this,” said Severus, an air of certainty around him. “What-ifs aren’t the way to live, Lily.”

“Please,” she said softly. “It’s not like that, I just need to know that if everything goes pear-shaped, you’ll come get him and raise him like You-Know-Who would expect. Out of everyone, Harry is the most important.”

Severus felt an odd feeling, even with the slight tinge in his arm, something felt off.

“Lily, you’ve never been so morbid before,” he muttered, more to himself than her, but he knew that she heard. “Take some rest and talk to Potter, I’m sure he’d help raise your spirits. The Dark Lord’s popularity is dwindling, his madness is causing a few to become wary. He will fall.”

“Good, good…”

“Now it’s your turn to promise me something,” he muttered, his right hand gently caressing his left forearm.”

“Anything,” said Lily. “Anything at all, Sev, and I’ll do it.”

She studied her friend intently, her green eyes taking in everything, from his posture, to how his teeth were slightly gritted, and even the fact that he looked almost defeated at what he was about to say.

“I don’t want Harry to know that I took this,” he gestured to his left forearm, “ever, unless I feel like he should know. Maybe, the war will be over within three years and that’ll be enough for him to grow up safe and never have to worry about Death Eaters or my previous mistakes. I would like to tell him myself, about the fact that I made a few mistakes and rashly jumped into the first thing that I thought off, which was a bad idea.”

Lily let him ramble, it’d be cruel to cut it off, but eventually he gave out a hiss and frowned, beginning to walk again.

“I’ll see you soon, Lily,” he said and then paused. “Take care.”

Lily watched him leave, the moment the pop from the Disapparition occurred she let out a very small sigh and closed the front door, aware that her son was now awake and staring at her with his baby blue eyes. Slipping past her curious son, she made her way towards the bookshelf and allowed her hand to blindly hover before striking at a book, which made Harry laugh.

Setting the book down, she quickly cleaned the mess that she and Severus had made not even ten minutes ago. She knew that James should be back sooner rather than later, most likely with Sirius and she didn’t want the house to look messy. That was of course if James had actually left and not just sitting around and decided to eavesdrop.

She finally took her seat next to her son, who was now looking at the bookshelf and the book in her hands with keen interest. She realized almost instantly that she had chosen a book on charms, which tended to be a constant issue, as her hands sought out books on charms, as if on their own. She sent her son a quick motherly smile, especially when she realized that her son was eyeing the bookshelf with interest, as if wanting to get up and study the thing.

It was at that moment that she realized that her son had never really seen a book being used before.

She felt like she had somehow neglected her child, as magical children grew and developed faster than Muggle children. James had told her his first word was almost months before her own and he was walking before she could even crawl around.

James entered the sitting room about thirty minutes later with an odd expression on his face, which soon morphed into a smile when he saw his wife and son pretty much curled up on the sofa reading a book together, not that Harry was reading.

“Teaching him young, I assume.”

Lily jumped sky-high, Harry must have felt the jolt of fear through her as he stared at her oddly.

“Hello dear,” she said, focusing back on the book. “No harm in teaching him charms, after all, he’ll inherit my talent in it.”

James laughed, shifting towards the sofa, smiling, “I do hope that our little Harry wasn’t too troublesome, after all, he is the son of a Marauder.”

Lily made an acknowledging sound, not really caring what was said as she was far too busy pointing out things to her son.

“I spoke to Sirius and Remus, both agreed with us, well, they mainly agreed with you and not me, but no one needs to know that.” James muttered with a very light and airy chuckle, which sounded odd coming from a man’s lips, as it seemed as if it came from a teenager. “Sirius said he removed that!” he growled, stalking off towards the floo to drill some sense into his best friend.

“I spoke to Severus before, he wasn’t able to stay long a she had some important business to attend to, one of his potions in fact.”

James turned to face Lily, who had spoken rather suddenly, her eyes still on the book.

“He gave me an idea,” she continued. “He informed me of a house in Hogsmeade, I’m not exactly sure where it is, but I know that it’s there and I’m going to take Harry along with me guised as a shopping trip.”

“Sounds great, dear,” said James sweetly, the curse seeping deeper.

“If Peter does come over tomorrow, I don’t want Harry to be here when he arrives,” she said, trying not to laugh at her husband. “That may thwart his plans slightly.”


	2. House Hunting

_Old Name_ : Growing Up (part II)

 _New Name_ : House Hunting

 _Rewritten_ : 13/Feb/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Lily woke up much later than she usually would, especially on a day that she had plans and that her husband had work, who would normally wake her with his clumsy walking at seven in the morning. The moment she had opened her eyes she realized that it was much later than she first thought. The curtains had been pulled open, allowing the cruel, but warming sun to force its way into the bedroom, which she instantly blamed on James, as no one else should have been in here to do it.

Turning, she instantly realized that said man had already left and that his side of the bed was made, not neatly like she would have done it, but made none-the-less. She instantly realized that her husband would have already left for work and didn’t bother to even try to wake her, probably just sneaking out like the little sneak he was during school, with that cursed invisibility cloak.

Kicking off the sheets, rather roughly as they were tangled around her ankle, she made her way to the en-suite that was attached to their bedroom.

After finishing her shower, which woke her up fully, she set off downstairs and began to prepare herself a quick, yet filling, breakfast and ate it at a rather slow pace. She thought heavily on how she would handle the situation and how she would act as if she were shopping. Perhaps she could grab a few everyday items, such as bread and some other essentials, which should cover the trips real purpose nicely.

It was almost nine thirty when she finally got around to seeing Harry, who was happily sitting in his cot making various sounds that babies did. Already changed and fed, as it seemed. Both of which had surprised her as it must have been James before he left for work, which was a very rare thing.

“Ready to go to Hogsmeade, sweetie?” she said happily, cooing slightly at her almost cheerful son.

Picking up her son, Lily made her way out the door, and locked it behind her. She shifted towards a nearby alleyway that was simply labelled the apparation point and vanished with a loud crack, landed in Hogsmeade Village almost seconds after.

Stepping away from the landing point, she quickly checked over her son. There were plenty of books that said it’s not a good idea to apparate with a child younger than six months, but she had been told by James, Sirius and even Molly that it was normally a good idea to get used to the feeling as it’d remove nausea and eventually help silence them when performing apparition or disapparition. She smiled when she realized that her son was fine. She’d never have forgiven herself if she had splinched Harry in anyway.

She was proud that her son took the feeling like a little man and didn’t even cry or scream out in uneasiness, instead he squirmed about and stared at her.

Lily turned and began to walk at a rather slow pace, staring into the windows of various small shops, easily side-stepping any adults that lurked about. She was thankful that it wasn’t the weekend, and that meant to Hogwarts children would be here. She had to have an interest set in mind, that way if any Death Eaters saw her, she could easily shrug it off as her fabricated story, but it would be much better if she somehow saw someone she knew around.

Passing a rather familiar café, she wondered if Harry would eat anything from there when he was older. Oh, how foolish and motherly she could be at times. She sighed and kept walking, almost bumping into an elegant looking woman, who held a blond-haired boy, who stared at them with trepidation.

“I’m sorry,” said Lily quickly, before the woman could even turn around. “I was simply looking into a window and lost my footing.”

“It’s quite alright,” a long pause ensured as the two women stared each other down. “Lily Potter, I have heard that you haven’t been around in three or so months.”

“Been spending as much time as possible with Harry,” said Lily, gesturing to the boy with a gentle hand motion. “As well as other things…”

Lily had of course put a large sum of money into pure-blood books, trying to replicate the actions and charisma of the pure-blooded wizards and witches. It had to be done, as if you acted any less, you would be struck down in Diagon Alley by Death Eaters for simply being less-than-perfect or Mudblood filth.

She hoped the supposed Dark Lord was felled soon.

“I understand,” said Narcissa gently, her tone was nothing short of pure honestly and almost a tinge of sadness. “Lucius and I decided that we would be better off away from this madness.”

“That’s good,” said Lily slowly. “Wouldn’t want to raise a child being in the middle of a war.”

She knew that it was a lie, the Malfoy’s had supported You-Know-Who, at least in finance.

“So,” drawled Narcissa, her eyes landed on the little boy in Lily’s arms. “What’s his name, haven’t heard much about him.”

“Harry, Harry James Potter,” said Lily, smiling. “However, I will call him Harrison when he annoys me or misbehaves.”

A laugh flew over the two, as well as a slight baby laugh from the blond-haired boy.

“Let’s hope that he’s well behaved then,” said Narcissa, her eyes almost glittering with joy. “It’s a highly formal name, perhaps signing him up to Hogwarts with it would do wonders when he comes to that age, I’m sure he’d thank you kindly.”

“I don’t think he would,” said Lily, looking at her son’s face, which was set in a slight scowl at the sheer mention of his name being Harrison. “It’s alright, Harrison, your name is beautiful.”

The scowl became deeper and Narcissa laughed harder.

“That has to be the best thing I have ever seen,” she said, staring at the mother and son duo as they stared each other down. “How about we find a nice café or something around that to sit and have a nice chat? That way we’re more than two women gossiping in the middle of Hogsmeade.”

“Sounds like a lovely idea,” said Lily honestly. “You lead the way, I’m sure you know all the best places.”

“I forgot to say it before,” said Narcissa, propping up Draco just a little higher. “This is Draco Lucius Malfoy. We decided to stick with both Black and Malfoy traditions in the naming process.”

“That’s a very nice name, if I must admit.”

Lily wouldn’t argue, but she did need an explanation how it followed traditions. In the book it simply said to never ask, so she didn’t.

“I can almost feel your confusion from here,” said Narcissa with a slight grin. “The Black tradition is very easy to understand, we’re named after constellations. The Malfoy Line tends to follow the most common tradition, however it was not a commo none in France, where the family originated. Such as, the first-born child will have the middle name of the father. Draco Lucius, Lucius Abraxas and so on.”

“Well, that’s fantastic,” said Lily, almost completely unable to say something relevant. “I think it’s a great tradition to keep going, merging of them only strengthens them.”

She would have said more, but Narcissa clapped, rather loudly and startled her into silence.

Within thirteen seconds, a waitress was at their table.

“I’ll have a tea, plain, with two lumps of sugar and a splash of milk,” said Narcissa, studying the waitress with slight amusement. “Would you like anything, Lily?”

Lily wanted to refuse, despite being offered the tea, she couldn’t afford to repay the favour and deep down she just felt wrong for thinking of accepting it. She gave a reluctant sigh and met Narcissa’s eyes, which screamed at her to just order.

“I’ll have the same as what Narcissa is having, thank you.”

Narcissa waited patiently for the waitress to leave, which only took a few seconds as the girl hurried off eagerly. She turned and smiled at Lily. “So I see that little Harry still has his baby blue eyes.”

“The very few Healers that we have seen, regarding his small size has been met with the same reply, that he’s most likely just lacking in growth and should be fine in a few years.” Lily would had to have been blind to miss the slight raise of the eyebrow. “You see, when I was pregnant, something happened and it was either lose the baby or – you understand, I assume.”

Narcissa nodded, shifting her hand so that the freshly made tea could be placed in front of her. She made a motion with her hand for the story to be continued.

“Well, they simply said that Harry may not grow as quickly as other children due to the side-effects of a potion that I had taken during the pregnancy.” Said Lily sadly, her bright green eyes slightly dulled. “It was that or lose Harry, so I went with the most viable option.”

She went on to explain that her son’s height may be effected and that he wouldn’t grow as tall as other boys and may even end up shorter than most girls, even though both she and James were considerably tall.

Her mind quickly went to the list that she was given by a few select Healers that composed it all and she couldn’t stop the slight frown that filled her face.

At least her son was alive.

“Yes, I can see that he isn’t developing as fast as he should be,” said Narcissa, studying the boy with soft eyes. “I’m sure those eyes will either go to a deep hazel or a nice emerald green, much like your own.”

“I hope so,” said Lily, the frown morphed into a very small smile. “A few have mentioned that his eyes could be fighting for what colour they would like to be, which confuses me as I had no idea that was how it worked.”

“That does make a lot of sense,” said Narcissa, studying the boy once more, mainly the eyes. “Draco decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and take up the Malfoy hair colour and eye colour. Thankfully he’s got my facial structure.”

“Yes,” agreed Lily. “I think he’ll look a lot like you, but a lot like Lucius as well.”

“How does he fare around other children?”

The question pretty much knocked Lily off balance, she hadn’t really introduced Harry to anyone yet, not even Molly’s children. Were you meant to introduce babies to other babies? She couldn’t remember her own baby days, but she was pretty sure that she wasn’t paraded around until at least a toddler.

“I haven’t,” she admitted almost sadly. “I didn’t think it mattered. I’ve kept him at home.”

“Think of it like an imprint,” explained Narcissa, as if she we were reading straight from a book. “When two babies see each other and spend time around each other, they tend to grow up with them in mind. Their relationship could always be rocky as they’d know each other from then, but not understand it until later in life. It explains sibling rivalry, especially children that are born close together.”

“So,” started Lily, her facial expression set in a soft smile. “It’s like that for twins?”

“Not exactly,” began Narcissa. “Twins tend to share their own little bond, as they’re created of the same magic, so they’re closer than anyone will ever know. Sibling rivalry is a perfect example of imprinting as babies. They’ll either love each other, or hate each other.”

Lily made sure to think over this for a while, she cradled her tea and stared at Narcissa as if she had seen the woman in a new light. Her answer finally came from her lips.

“So it’s a lot like first impressions?” she asked, curious.

“Now you’re catching on!” said Narcissa, almost excitedly.

The two women began to discuss it in-depth, both surprise dhow intelligent each was and how dedicated they could be in the discussion. It was like someone opened a window of a stuffy room and allowed the fresh air to roll through and clear out all the stuffiness. It was as if an instant friendship had sprang up out of nowhere.

Lily was in her first year when Narcissa was in her fifth, not only were the two in different Houses, but they hardly even spoke, seeing as Lily’s Muggleborn status ran rampant almost instantly, with a name such as Evans, some doubted that she was Muggleborn, and instead that she was from the Evans line that was from France.

The rumours were quenched in her second year when everyone learned the Evans line hadn’t ever left France.

“Listen,” said Narcissa rather suddenly. “I must be off, I only came down to sort out some business errands. “I enjoyed the tea that we had today, if you ever wish to come over to the Malfoy Manor, please just floo or owl and you can come over, just bring Harry and we’ll make it an outing.”

Lily was confused on the wording of it, shouldn’t it just have been called a playdate?

 _Pure-bloods_!

She said her goodbyes and smiled as the elegant witch and blond-haired son quickly retreated from the café with their usual sophisticated elegance and the air of power that she held from having the surname of Malfoy.

She walked up the almost empty street with her son sitting firmly in her arms, not quite old enough to be lifted on the hip when walking around, especially with inconsiderate witches and wizards shoving through the street. She swiftly pulled the piece of parchment from her pocket and glanced down at it.

 _117 Main Street, Hogsmeade_.

Odd name for a street, but she made her way, counting from 82 straight to 117, finding the building that was apparently the one that Severus had told her to investigate. Stepping around the building slowly, she saw a sign over the glass door of the property, she assumed that in most circumstances it would be spelled to magically open when someone approached, much like a Muggle sliding door.

Stalking around the building, trying to be as stealthy as she possibly could, which wasn’t very, she noticed that a man was watching her with an amused expression. She fixed her facial expression, as she had read in the book on pure-blood mannerisms and began to walk away, not wanting anyone to get suspicious of her.

“Excuse me,” a voice called, a rough sounding voice. “Please stop, my old bones cannot exactly keep up with the youth these days.”

Lily paused, slightly tense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Of course not,” muttered the man. “Listen, I got an alert in my head from you, as you were truly interested in my shop. It only goes off on genuine offers, that way it weeds out the Bogans with their bogus offers.”

 _Bogan_? What in the name of Merlin was a _Bogan_?

Lily studied the somewhat tall man with a scrutinizing gaze. She noticed the slight limp the man had, as well as the long cut that ran from the back of his hand and stopped just before his ring finger, which had a simple, yet elegant silver band on it. Her eyes travelled to the man’s slightly wild hair, which reminded her of Sirius, the sun was pushing brightly off the man’s hair, which was sticking up in odd angles, as if it couldn’t be tamed, much like James’ hair.

“Would you like to come in?” the man said, breaking the slight silence. “I can show you what the property has to offer.”

Lily’s senses didn’t tell her to run or flee, despite how odd the situation was, and she could usually trust her senses, it had saved her and James many times in various situations. She watched as the man smirked, as if he had read her facial expression. Still, she didn’t have the words to speak just yet, so she just stood there as politely as she could, holding her son.

Her eyes once again flicked to the shop, which seemed to have a simple building on the top, which looked to be around one room in size, totalling about the half the size of the store. She assumed it was simply a storage room. That lead to the next question, where was the actually house?

“So?” the man’s rough voice cut across the street, not loudly, but not exactly silently. “Would you like to come in and look around the house? I have a feeling that you and your son will enjoy the house.”

Lily was barely able to keep up with half the slang the man used when they entered the building. It was like a waterfall and she had no idea what he was saying. She had no idea what a dero was, nor did she know how that was relevant to the house. Not to mention when he complimented her lippie and said that his wife used the almost same sort.

She needed a translator.

“There’s more to the house then you think,” the man said, smiling. “That’s the thing with my wife, she was brilliant when it came to things like that. Back home she turned a rather large tree into a house, of course it was done for fun.”

Lily rubbed her head, but agreed softly. Her eyes caught sight of the sign on the door, clearly indicating that something was happening with the store for it to be closed, perhaps due to the building being sold.

_Dear loyal customers,_

_Due to unforeseen circumstances in the family, we’ve had to close up the store for a brief time period. All orders can be done by owl order, however if you have any additional concerns, you can floo us at our home address and we’ll do our best to get it sorted for you._

_We apologize for any inconvenience._

_Kid regards,_

_Management_

She followed the man into the store and walked past a few odds and ends that were still on the shelves, clearly to show that the store wasn’t abandoned. Even though she knew that once the property was purchased, it would most likely be up and running again.

She stood in a room that was littered with boxes and various products. Cursing her stupidity, she realized it was the staff room and that all this was most likely where the workers came. This made her curious.

“Just keying you into the ward,” the man said, flicking his wand in a complex pattern. “This one was my design, I loved wards and anything on that branch of magic. I have to key you and your son at the same time or nothing will happen, cannot key someone in if another person is present. Group infiltrations will always fail as there’s a limit on how many can be keyed at once. So most of the group would have to leave the room.”

“This is amazing,” breathed Lily, staring in awe. “I have never seen anything like this before.”

The man gave off a lopsided smile. “This is only the start.”

Lily felt truth in his words when she felt herself keyed into the ward, a slight warmth travelled over her and she suppressed a shudder. She glanced down at her son, who had decided that this event wasn’t worth his time and went to sleep. She was gestured up the small stairs which were nothing like what she expected. She assumed the stairs would be drab and crusty, but they were nice white wood with silver and gold colours swirled through them.

“Oh how rude I have been!”

Lily jolted when the voice broke her thoughts, she slowly turned and faced the smiling man.

“I apologize. I’m Derrick,” muttered Derrick formally. “Derrick Oakey. I was wondering if you’d pick up my accent or even the slang I used, but you didn’t. I’ll satisfy your curiosity. I’m Australian, as you’re aware we have butchered the English language and turned it into what we use now.”

The accent finally caused Lily to understand why the man sounded so odd, or had a whole lot of words that made no sense to her. “I should have known!” she laughed out, surprising the man. “You’re not the first I’ve met, I have no idea how it slipped over me, I guess it has been many years since I was seven.”

“Oh?”

“Quite an adventure,” she continued. “But that’s for another time. I’m Lily, Lily Potter, and this charming little boy is my son, Harry.”

“It’s a pleasure,” said Derrick and instantly began to recount all the defences. “As you’re aware, the first defence is the actual store, which has many charms and wards to prevent people from burning it down and destroying it. The second is the ward that hides the actual house and the third, well, that one is mainly not in use, but it’ll instantly alert the Aurors if any Unforgivable Curses are used.”

“May I ask a question?” asked Lily, highly curious. “How did you develop all this?”

“Ah,” said Derrick. “As you’re aware, Australia wasn’t touched either of these Dark Lord wars as it is often just ignored as being a lacklustre country with untalented witches and wizards – let’s just no delve into the fact that the country is neutral in wars and is vastly protected by most of the countries in the world, such as: The United States, China, Japan and even France will come aid Australia if any country attacks it.”

“Not Britain?” asked Lily, curious.

“Not until recently, despite the fact that we Australians follow the Queen,” explained Derrick. “Funnily enough, the Minister for Magic when You-Know-Who’s terror first began called us incompetent and a sorry excuse for wizards. Australia does things differently. We have two schools, one for boys and another for the girls. No distractions. Classes that you do badly in you get pulled out of. Unlike here, we weren’t forced to attend classes we didn’t excel in, instead we were to do that as homework or out of class studying.”

“That seems rather interesting,” said Lily slowly. “Won’t some fall behind?”

“Yes, but without others holding some back, others can succeed.”

Lily understood at that moment. The Australian schooling system worked similarly to Durmstrang and a little like Beauxbatons. If you fell behind you were left behind. It was a cutthroat system that caused the country to be scoffed at due to wizards and witches only being proficient in a few branches, unlike here where most knew the basics of everything.

“Before I forget,” said Derrick suddenly. “It’d be wise to not key anyone who works in the store into the house.”

Lily nodded and began the tour of the house. From the second she stepped in, she felt the warmth of a fireplace springing to life and the sound of a window seemingly opening by itself. The small amounts of furniture weren’t expertly crafted by the finest designers, but they were nice and suited the house nicely.

The walls were a soft light blue with white swirls through them, almost representing clouds. The panelling which took up less than half of the wall was oak wood, which had square designs on it.

“The design of this house,” she breathed. “Tremendous. Who designed it?”

“My wife and I,” said Derrick, clearly reminiscing. “Well, it was mainly her, I just assisted with the charms and the money to do it.” A very lengthy and pregnant pause occurred. “We designed it for my son,” continued Derrick. “For when he was older.”

Lily watched as Derrick gave her a sad look and shifted his vision straight over her shoulder and towards the blank lilac panted wall just behind her. “You don’t have to tell the rest, if you don’t want to. I realize it’s highly personal.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Derrick, his eyes back on Lily. “The house holds no other memories as we never even lived her. It just has a few memories of the times that my wife and I sat around without son, casting spells and such.”

Lily smiled slightly, not sure what else to do. It was times like this where she wished that Harry would cry or something so that she had an easy escape from the awkwardness.

“What do you think of werewolves?” asked Derrick randomly, his facial expression serious.

“Well,” began Lily, slightly taken back by the suddenness of that question. “I strongly believe that werewolves deserve a place in society and get jobs and live normal lives, as the rest of us can. A rather close friend of my husbands – actually, he’s my friend to – is a werewolf, and we get on splendidly. The man is the most caring person you’d ever meet, so gentle.”

“You don’t think that they should be hunted or killed?”

Lily was sure that she had a look of aghast on her face. “Good heaven’s no!” she blurted out. “I don’t want that, nor do they deserve that, at all.”

“My son,” said Derrick in a soft voice, his hands slightly trembling. “He was attacked by a werewolf, shortly after we came here, I-I think it was one of You-Know-Who’s werewolves. At first we assumed we could handle it, but we weren’t ready so he and his fiancé vowed that they wouldn’t need any potion to help and that their love was enough…” he trailed off before snapping back onto the point. “First full moon, he killed her, and then escaped the room and killed a child, no more than ten.”

Lily wasn’t sure what to say, especially when Derrick began muttering about three months. She assumed that the event had happened three months ago, which was no wonder why she hadn’t heard, she would have been having Harry.

“I can only offer comforting words,” she finally said, staring the man up and down in sympathy. “Perhaps I can convince one of my friends to help your son with the Wolfsbane potion.”

“Oh my,” said Derrick. “I couldn’t accept that! The potion each month is costly.”

“I strongly believe in helping people,” started Lily, her tone dead serious. “If the potion would help your son, then the cost would be worth it.”

The two kept conversing for another thirty minutes before Lily had to flee and get home before James did, that way she could slowly push the idea into her husband’s head and make him believe it, over time, that it was a good idea to move here, even if it was as a backup in case You-Know-Who attacked.

“Farewell, Derrick,” said Lily as she left the building, a smile on her face.


	3. The Love of a Mother

_Old Name_ : All Grown Up

 _New Name_ : The Love of a Mother

 _Rewritten_ : 15/Feb/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

A rather familiar owl flew through the open window of the almost out of place house in Godric’s Hollow, easily going by undetected by all the Trick or Treating children who were happily celebrating Hallowe’en, and perched itself on the coffee table, almost knocking over a cup of tea in the process. It hooted with emergency.

Lily heard the owl and quickly took the letter, watching as the owl instantly took flight, leaving behind a few feathers from its less-than-satisfactory landing, she picked up the letter and began to read it with a quickened pace, instantly realizing who it was from.

_Lily,_

_I couldn’t stall the Dark Lord longer than I did. He figured out that the prophecy related to Harry as soon as he got the three lines that I personally delivered. I’ll never forgive myself for that, never. He’s using this a way to prove that not even the fates can stop his terrible reign. Despite all his confidence, he has addressed a few of his most trusted in case something goes wrong, he has informed them that he is immortal, or so he claims, and that he’ll be back if the worst should occur._

_Don’t let this discourage you, the propaganda that was sent by the Light a few weeks ago revealing his blood status cut deep into his active numbers, not that the Dark Lord knows it. I guess a few pure-bloods felt betrayed by the fact and actively sought to remove their marks, which isn’t possible at this moment._

_He has sent a large force to scout a lot of light wizards’ houses, of course, the headquarters was included in that. He got all this information from Peter Pettigrew, who finally handed it over when he was initiated as a Death Eater, in attempt to climb the ranks. If it means anything, he did plead for only Harry to be killed and you and Potter to be saved._

_The Dark Lord scoffed and hit the whimpering coward with the Cruciatus Curse._

_The attack is meant to be tonight, in at least three hours from now. Only the Dark Lord and Bellatrix will be going to your house. I was able to convince the Dark Lord that Lucius and I had uses elsewhere. I have a gut feeling that tonight, everything will change._

_Burn this letter and flee, leave what you don’t need._

_Severus Snape_

Lily instantly reacted, the letter was long, but short in standards from Severus, he could write a novel as a letter if he desired. She quickly cast some heavy Charms at the window, which she had learned from Derrick Oakey’s wife, who was pretty much a prodigy in Charms, she was even better than Flitwick, which was outstanding.

Rushing up the stairs of Godric’s Hollow, her footsteps echoing loudly through the house, she quickly found her son’s room, which contained James picking up and shrinking the essentials. She picked up her son, ignoring the tears that streamed down her face as she did so, a flood of happy memories flooding her mind. Harry’s first word, his first step, and even his first bout of accidental magic that revealed him to be a wizard. All in this house, it all happened here and now she had to leave it behind.

She was tempted to tell Harry to wave bye to the house, but at that moment it felt so stupid when she was going to be running for her life any moment.

“Come on, Lily,” yelled James, his voice slightly panicked. “We’ll make it out and – and then we’ll come back and collect anything that we need when it all settles down. Not everything is lost.”

Such as our lives.

Lily ran, the explosion that sounded as if it was just mere inches away from her startled her. She held Harry tighter and jumped over a fallen tree just out the back of the house. She met James’ eyes and smiled. They were going to make it.

“See you at –”

Lily watched her husband vanish, when she concentrated on where she wanted to land, turning her wand, she found herself unable to move from the ground, as if she was blocked. Quivering, she realized that an anti-disapparition jinx was triggered straight after James had left. James had triggered it when he left.

“Foolish woman,” a cold, yet drawn voice mocked. “You dare even think you can escape me? I am Lord Voldemort, you cannot escape me.”

Lily turned her head so fast to look for the direction that the voice came from that she thought her neck would have snapped from the sheer speed. She clutched Harry tighter and began to take small steps backwards, her wand held tightly in her hand.

“And here I was thinking that Gryffindors stayed and fought,” taunted Lord Voldemort. “Not ran like little dogs with their tails between their legs.”

Lily kept looking for where the voice was coming from, ignoring the taunting words. It didn’t take long before the slow walking Dark Lord appeared in front of her, his eyes burning a bright crimson as he stared her and her son down. She tensed and did what any mother would do, protected her child from the vile man.

“Just kill me and let Harry go,” she began, staring at the Dark Lord, her green eyes twinkling the night with tears. “Please, just –”

“Be quiet!” hissed Lord Voldemort, cutting the woman off. “If I wanted you to be dead, at this very moment, you would be dead!” He began circling the woman and child, a determined gleam filling those crimson eyes. “Some do say that the third time is the charm, right? Perhaps this is the time that I’ll be killing you, ending your filthy presence.”

“What do you want?” said Lily bravely, she tried to stand taller, but it didn’t work as she wanted it to. “I’ll do whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t put my son in danger.”

The loud cackle that the supposed Dark Lord let out unnerved her greatly.

“I would like your son,” said Lord Voldemort with an air of arrogance. “You see, Mudblood, as I am your superior, I have talents that you couldn’t ever dream of possessing. I have pushed magic beyond any limits known. I just know these things. Your son will be very powerful, very talented and a lot like me as a child –”

“You lie!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Mudblood,” snapped Lord Voldemort, his wand pointed directly at the woman’s temple. “Next time you do something as stupid as that, I won’t hesitate to end your pathetic little existence and take your son for myself.” He lowered his wand and continued to circle around the woman, smiling as the woman’s eyes following as if she was scared. “I do fear that if I killed you, he’d end up somewhere that he hated and then he’d be too dark. I need him pure until he’s ready, therefore he cannot be raised with hate.”

Lily was confused on what this man was even going on about. She knew he was insane, but this was something else entirely. She didn’t want to antagonize the insane Dark Lord either, that would be a death wish.

“I assume you’re confused, how… pathetic,” drawled Lord Voldemort. “Dumbledore teaches you nothing. How does the old fool expect to win this war when he has no idea of the limits that magic can do –”

Once more, Lily remained dead quiet and decided to just let the Dark Lord ramble on, as he seemed inclined to be doing.

“– not that a mere baby frightens me, nothing frightens me,” continued Lord Voldemort. “But there simply cannot be two Dark Lords, and I’d rather not fight against someone that could be so magnificent. Oh, and I do not share – that’s all I’ll explain, after all, you’re not a Death Eater, you’re on the light side,” he sneered as he said the last few words. “I’m not exactly forgiving, especially towards a Mudblood, like yourself, but you have uses. I have one female Death Eater. I _could_ make it two.”

Lily’s eyes instantly narrowed. “Even if I had the desire to join you or your ranks as a Death Eater,” she continued slowly, making sure her wording was decent. “I couldn’t. I have a husband who is firmly on the side of the light, and I frequently get together with friends who would be rather furious if they saw your symbol on my arm.” Sighing, she took a very small back, that way her footing was flat and not on a slight hill. “I’m going to be purely honest, not that I haven’t before, but I don’t care about this war, I just want my son, my Harry, to be safe.”

“Indeed?” a mocking voice came from just behind the Dark Lord. “Your loyalty to family would parallel a few of the pure-blooded families, which upsets me to say.”

“Bellatrix,” said Lord Voldemort, looking mildly annoyed. “Didn’t I tell you to remain at the front of the house?”

“My Lord,” said Bellatrix instantly, twirling a strand of her dark hair. “I apologize, it was simply boring. This is where all the action is.”

“It appears as if your position as the only female Death Eater is secured, Bellatrix,” said Lord Voldemort, a sigh left his lips. “As for you, it really does annoy me, you’d be a very good follower, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps we could come up with a simple agreement.”

“I’m glad,” said Bellatrix, her hand dropping from her hair. “The Longbottom’s wards have been destroyed. The Death Eaters have fled, as you have said ready for your approach.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?” snapped Lord Voldemort, debating whether he should hit the woman with the Cruciatus Curse. “It seems as if our time has become rather limited.”

Lily froze, her green eyes darting between Bellatrix and the Dark Lord. She didn’t dare hold Harry any tighter, due to not wanting to hurt him.

“I’m not going to spell it out for you, so do your best to listen,” said Lord Voldemort in a highly snappish tone. “Having your son on my side, even if the war has been won, would be beneficial. I assure you, he’ll rise through the ranks rather quickly, at least if I assume correctly. That is of course as long as you don’t lock him in a cupboard because he’s destined to be by my side. I’ll be marking your child, yet it will be done in a very unique way. If I were to mark him now, the sheer power behind the spell would kill your son, and I don’t want him dead.”

“What exactly do you mean?” pressed Lily, staring blankly. “That doesn’t sound any safer than the other way.”

A flash of anger spread across Lord Voldemort’s face, scarlet eyes slitted. “I’m not explaining how my spell works to a worthless Mudblood!” He stood there in silence, twirling his bone-white wand between his fingers. “It’s an experimental marking system, one that I may employ in the future to weed out traitors. The Dark Mark will appear on your son’s arm when he actually wishes to be loyal to me. He must really want to be one of my Death Eaters. Your son will be given a choice, something I’m not very fond of, but it’ll work to my favour.”

“That’s it?” asked Lily cautiously. This entire situation seemed off for her, she knew that both of these people were insane, yet they were acting saner than what she had been told during Order meetings. “I know you wouldn’t do something like this and then leave us alone to live happily on away from the war. My husband is a decorated Auror, he’ll fight until he draws his very last breath.”

Little Harry, who wasn’t as little as he was a year ago, opened his bright green eyes and stared at the tall man with confusion. He let out a small giggle, which turned into a squeal when he noticed Bellatrix off to the side.

Lily didn’t let that unnerve her in the slightest. Bellatrix looked a lot like Narcissa. That could be the reason why Harry seemed so excited about seeing her and the tank man, who had unique eyes.

“That is simply it,” said Bellatrix, an insane sounding cackle followed the words that she spoke.

Lily tensed when the insane woman walked towards her and stopped about an arm’s length away from her and her son, grinning.

“That’s all that needs to be summarized,” continued Bellatrix. “Your son shall be marked, in a unique way, which I may add is a very honourable thing to receive from the mighty Dark Lord. Your son will be powerful, he’s just what the dark side needs.”

Lord Voldemort stood off to the side, not too far away, but not to close either. He needed Bellatrix to wear down Lily Potter and make her cautious, that way he could soothe her worries with little lies and empty promises.

Muttering a very long, yet unrecognizable phrase in Latin, he watched as the spell almost transparent spell hit Harry Potter without Lily Potter even noticing, but the woman did glance at him as if she suspected something was off. The wailing of her son distracted her enough to throw suspicion off him and allow him to work in piece at preparing the rest of the spell.

By now he was sure that Harry Potter would feel the Dark Mark being gently brushed over his left forearm, not like others who received it painfully, this was done gently, as it had to be. He watched as the child glanced down at where the spell had hit with curious eyes, which was a sight to see as he was sure the small child was far too young to understand what had happened.

“The spell is completed,” said Lord Voldemort in a slow icy drawl. “Should your son to accept the Dark Mark and join my side, it will appear on his arm, no pain will occur.”

Lily tensed when she saw a cloud of black smoke slowly engulfing her son, she wondered if he had already accepted. But the spell just cleared off without any other prompting. She had a million questions about what that was.

“What happens if my son doesn’t accept the Dark Mark?” asked Lily almost as soon as a silence started.

Lord Voldemort sneered. “Then he’ll remain unmarked until he has chosen a path that he would like to follow in life. With that said, I cannot come to him in person and coax him to join my side with promises or words against the light, as it’s so aptly called.” In the blink of an eye, he was standing right in front of Lily Potter, his hand in hers, scowling. “Neither can you coax him into believing that the dark side evil or try and sway him from it, we both must remain neutral.”

Bellatrix easily slipped Harry from the Woman’s grasp and tucked the boy on her hip. “I think I owe a few people some Galleons. I said the moment I picked up a child I’d drop dead, yet, I’m still breathing.”

Lily’s eyes darted from her son to the crazy lady. They pleaded that she not hurt him.

“Let’s get this underway,” said Lord Voldemort. “I have other things to attend to. Bellatrix, you’ll be the binder.”

“Of course,” said Bellatrix, walking closer with Harry on her hip. “My Lord.”

Bellatrix tapped her wand underneath the connected hands, as opposed to the Unbreakable Vow, which was tapped in the top. She muttered a few words and Latin and smirked when a whip of fire began circling around the two entwined hands.

“Will you, Lily Potter, agree to the term that neither of us shall reveal anything that has happened here tonight?”

“I will.”

“Will you, Lily Potter, agree to the term that your son, Harry Potter, will be eligible to receive the Dark Mark no earlier than on his eleventh birthday? Assuming that he has agreed to follow me and the ideals I hold for the Wizarding World.”

“I will.”

“Will you, Lily Potter, agree not to force your son, Harry Potter, to rethink any ideals that he may acquire over the years, whether they’re about either side of the war, nor will you allow him to be abused or neglected in any way by yourself?”

“I will.”

The three whips of fire drew into their skin and they released hands almost instantly, as if they were burned.

“There’s one more thing,” drawled Lord Voldemort. “If Harry Potter ever reaches a critical state of living, or you attempt to harm him intentionally, he will instantly be transferred to me. I will become his magical and legal guardian with the option of adopting him as my own child. If you die, for any reason at all, Harry Potter will be instantly assigned to my care, even your blood-traitor husband, James Potter, attempts to take him back. Do you agree?”

Lily stood silently for a moment, thinking about the damage this could cause. “I would like Harry to go to Narcissa and Lucius if anything happened to both of us.”

Bellatrix cackled.

“Nothing will happen to me,” sneered Lord Voldemort. “But I accept that little bit of a change, I would rather he be safe than on the streets.”

“I do,” said Lily, frowning. Her eyes still on her son who was being tickled slightly by the insane Bellatrix, which unnerved her greatly.

“Take this,” sneered Bellatrix, slipping a book over Harry’s hand and pretty much threw it into the Mudblood’s hands. “It’s a book on Occlumency, something you must start learning. Dumbledore is a Legilimens and he seeing this little meeting will break the vow and then you’ll lose your son before you’ll even see him grow up.”

Lily held the book and studied it. It looked brand new, as if it were written and published yesterday. “I appreciate it.”

“Be sure to teach your son the art as well,” said Lord Voldemort, gesturing for the child to be handed over. “It’s a useful ability.”

Lily nodded in agreement, almost forgetting who it was looming over her with scarlet eyes. It had been awhile since she held a conversation about magic with anyone besides James or Severus, and each where bias in the magic they spoke about. Not wanting to offend Molly, who only talked about household spells, she refrained from speaking about magic to the overly motherly woman.

“Leave,” snapped Lord Voldemort, glaring at the woman. “Bellatrix and I will remove any traces of magic here. Go and convince your idiot blood-traitor husband that you’re fine and not to get any heroic ideas and try and go to the Longbottom house. I’d hate for Harry to grow up without a father figure.”

Lily didn’t need to be told twice. She clenched her wand, that she had only just realized she was still holding, tightly and held a firm arm on Harry and left for their new home. Her last thoughts before she vanished were for the Longbottom family, but if it was Longbottom that was destined to beat Voldemort, then she would wish him luck.

“Should have just killed her,” said Bellatrix, scowling. “Would have saved the trouble.”

Lord Voldemort let out a very rare, yet icy chuckle. “Would you be the one changing his diapers and feeding him, Bellatrix? I don’t think so.”

Vanishing all traces of magic, besides on the house, which was hardly damaged, he paused and thought on how he handled this situation. He knew that this would work, he had already done something before the vow to ensure it. Harry Potter would be on his side the moment the boy turned eleven.

* * *

It had been two years since the fall of the Dark Lord, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort. Muggleborn witches and wizards stopped getting treated as if they were nothing more than filth under everyone else’s shoes. The weather seemed to be more welcoming and warm, as if Mother Nature knew that the evil was truly gone and that the world could be in peace for once for all. Any remaining Death Eaters were scattered and fled for their lives, living in the shadows, never revealing the skin on their left forearm.

Neville Longbottom had become famous for his heroic defeat of the Dark Lord, even if the cost was his parents, he wasn’t without any friends or family as he still had his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom.

Augusta Longbottom was savage in her attempts to bring justice to the Death Eaters who had caused her only son to be killed. Even if the Longbottom legacy would live on with her grandson, who had bought more power to the Longbottom name than any other Longbottom in history. She had captured and caught a staggering amount of Death Eaters.

It was assumed that Augusta Longbottom had caught Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange and her brother-in-law, Rabastan Lestrange in a single battle. Although the two brothers pleaded that they had nothing to lose and would meet Azkaban with open arms. Bellatrix oddly remained quiet for most of the trial, but finally cracked near the end, screaming that the Dark Lord’s reign was far from over and that he had something that would cement their position at the top due to being the only few Death Eaters that were loyal.

Augusta Longbottom utilized her son’s fame, going against Albus Dumbledore’s words in the process, to apprehend and control a vast amount of the Wizarding World. Properties and businesses were thrown at her by wealthy pure-bloods and even Muggleborn witches and wizards.

By the time Neville Longbottom was three, he had sixteen marriage contracts drawn up for him, all denied or put on hold by the Longbottom matriarch.

James Potter quickly rose up the Auror ranks, and had a clear sight for Head Auror. Of course it couldn’t happen until the current Head Auror resigned or was demoted. Rufus Scrimgeour was about as cutthroat as you could get and kept the Aurors in top form, but that kind of attitude wouldn’t last long, the man seemed dead on his feet half the time.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin took an extended break after the mass of trials for caught Death Eaters. Their façade was a holiday, but most people knew that the two were seeking out Peter Pettigrew, who had only just managed to change into his rat form and flee during the chaos.

Finding a common rat in the sewer was close to impossible, and no one wanted to walk around in a Muggle sewer looking for him.

Severus Snape, who had avoided Azkaban narrowly due to a testimony by Albus Dumbledore and oddly enough, James Potter, became Harry Potter’s godfather. He continued to teach Harry the subtle art that is potion making as best he could, finding out that Harry had a rather knack for potions, even at the young age of three.

Being in debt to Albus Dumbledore played havoc with his schedule and he often found himself unable to see his godson in person. He sent regular letters and still brewed the Wolfsbane potion for Derrick and Remus, but that was all he could do.

Harry couldn’t fly like he did for a few months at Godric’s Hollow, the memory of a little Harry hovering about a meter off the ground and smashing into the cupboard, knocking the ugly blue vase off the shelf was lost. Whenever Harry got on a broom he would shake slightly at first before it began a huge fit of nausea would wash over him and almost knock him off the broom as he clenched his stomach. The air from flying would rush into his face and cause his nose to bleed and his eyes to become squinted, as if he couldn’t see. For a few days after even flying at a low speed, he would have a headache.

Neither James nor Lily had any idea of what was happening, even Severus seemed at a loss on what could be causing it. Over the past three months, the Potter family had been all over trying to figure out a cause for the sudden sickness of their child. The flying issue was the start, it soon evolved into him not eating properly, and meals would often be pushed away by the small boy, shaking his head with tears streaming down his face.

Eventually one Healer had mentioned that perhaps Harry had already lived half his life already, which was a nice way of saying he had three years to live and that death was certain at the age of six.

The news was just that to Lily, who instantly broken down and blamed Voldemort and the spell that he had done on her son, which had probably tipped the scaled in whatever issue he had when he was born. If she was a necromancer, she would have raised him from the dead just to strike down the man yet again. But a part of her wishes he was around, it was rare for the man to not do anything, when he said he was accomplished in branches of magic, pushing it further, she was sure he could have found a way for her child to live.

It was a horrid thought, but what was she meant to do about it? Her son could be dying.

It was due to this that Severus tried to distance himself from Harry, among other unknown reasons, which no one else knew of.

Lily understood though, she understood the reason why the man would distance himself from Harry, after all, it wasn’t every day that a child would wish to be with Severus, the man’s sharp tongue was enough to warn people to keep away, yet Harry just stood there and gave off a childish laugh every time.

The Malfoys were different, they wanted to soak up time with Harry, at every opportunity, if not for themselves for Draco, who seemed to understand that Harry would someday leave him and wished that the young boy would stay around. Despite being three, Draco spoke like a five year old.

Harry hardly ever spoke, instead he would use his eyes to convey the message that he wanted. Although, his first bout of magic, which was pulling a book of his shelf was placed in a pensieve memory and stored.

He simply just remained silent, usually with any book he could find in his hand, hoping that no one would notice him.

Lily caught sight of her husband and quit reminiscing on the years that had gone by. “James,” she muttered softly, standing near the countertop. “Have you seen Harry? I haven’t seen him yet. Is he still lazing around in bed?”

“Has he ever?” joked James, picking up two pieces of toast. “I’m pretty sure he wakes up before us and attempts to dress himself.”

“Shirt on backwards.”

“His pants inside out.”

“Shoes on the wrong feet.”

The two parents collapsed in laughter at their highly independent son who would get everything wrong when attempting to dress himself. He did deserve praise for it though, not many three year olds could even do that.

“Do you remember the time he put on his underwear after he put on pants?” said Lily, clutching the sides of her stomach. “He just stood there and stared daggers at us when we laughed at him. He refused to come out of his room for hours after that.”

James laughed, the memory surged straight to the front of his mind. When he turned to face the door he found his son, half-dressed and clutching a small book. “Morning, Harry, would you like some toast?”

Harry said nothing, but gave a small nod and took a step forward, reaching for the piece of toast that was handed to him. He smiled and quickly trotted back towards the sofa with the book in his hand.

James watched with an amused expression as his son began to open the book and act as if he could read it.

Harry placed the book on his legs and ate the piece of toast, being careful to not get any butter on the book. His swung back and forth as his eyes roamed over the words on the pages.

“I believe he’ll be a Ravenclaw,” muttered Lily, leaning against the counter once more. She refused to even think about the fact that her son may never see Hogwarts, she would do everything to make sure he did. “He has a thirst for knowledge, even if he cannot understand it at the moment.”

“I believe,” snorted James. “That he’ll be in Gryffindor. Regardless, I don’t mind what House he’s sorted into, any of the three would be decent.”

“Four,” interrupted Lily. “There’s four Houses at Hogwarts, James.”

Sirius, who had passed out on the sofa near the window, nodded in agreement with James. “Four Houses, I agree, but only one that Harry’s destined to be in.”

“Exactly,” said James happily. “No Potter born child has been in anything else than Gryffindor, it’s an instant decision by the Sorting Hat.”

“It can sense your hair and will instantly just say Gryffindor.”

“Be quiet, Sirius,” scolded James, looking much like an old man holding out a finger.

Lily almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a sneeze. “Are you alright Harry?” she instantly said and rushed to his side with a box of tissues. “Not another cold…”

Harry gave her a little smile, one that look sad, yet happy at the same time. He sat still as his mum tended to his nose and found something for him to drink that would help. He held out his hands, which had butter on them and smiled a bit brighter when magic washed over them, cleaning them instantly.

James, who quickly pushed the worry out of his mind that his son was going to get sick once more, quickly went back to the old subject. “Hogwarts won’t know what hit it when he gets there. I’m sure McGonagall will go sparse when she learns he’s in her house.”

A loud beeping noise filled the kitchen and small sitting room.

“Time for work,” sighed James, staring at the wall with a scowl. “Scrimgeour has me on paperwork duty for three months.”

“Serves you right,” said Sirius getting up and brushing crinkles from his robes. “Next time don’t question him and you won’t be put on the boring jobs. If I learned that one, you should have by now.”

* * *

Loud banging echoed throughout the hallways of Malfoy Manor as two boys created such a ruckus, running throughout the halls and panting along the way. Nothing was ever broken, or at least anything that any parents saw, however, there were a lot of close calls with priceless artefacts were nudged from shelves or marble pedestals were nudged and vases toppled, only just being saved by a frantic house-elf.

“Ready,” the blond-haired boy started, glancing at his friend, “set,” he said with a long pause, “GO!”

Once more, the sounds of light footsteps echoed through the hallway, a door crashing open and the banging of something followed straight after.

Harry still never really spoke around Draco, but the two seemed to have one-sided conversations that they both understood. The two would meet eyes and then laugh as if they shared a joke between that quick half a second glance.

Lily sat back with Narcissa in the highly expensive room that was called the sitting room, in fact, this one room was about the size of their house. “How have you and Lucius been, Narcissa?”

“Been a tiring month,” said Narcissa, twisting around her cup so the handle was in the right position. “Lucius is still dealing with the Ministry, on an almost daily bases. It’s been two years and they act as if it happened yesterday.”

Lily nodded sadly, she had heard about the struggled that Lucius was having. She offered silent support to her friend and took a sip of her tea, hoping for any more news on the matter.

“The instant that he steps into the Ministry the Aurors jump down his throat,” said Narcissa, almost sadly. “Rufus Scrimgeour may be a decent Auror, but he’s bias and has no idea of the working of anything outside that field. The moment his feet even touches their floor, he’s pulled aside and asked to turn out his pockets as if he’s nothing more than a thieving Muggle. He’s just treated wrongly.”

“James is helping,” said Lily, confidently. “At least, so I heard. He’s been trying to get the Ministry to ease up on Lucius. He got three months of desk duty for it. Scrimgeour was not too happy.”

* * *

 

Harry had very recently turned five, not that he seemed at excited at all about it. Each year that he got older, the more restless that most of the closer people that knew him got. He still hadn’t said a word since he was about one. That word was simply the most common for a child to say, and it was mum. Even then, it was only said weakly and when he was sick with a high fever.

Harry just simply communicated with facial expressions, he had no need for words.

Severus and the Malfoys seemed to understand exactly what Harry wanted, what he needed and what was best for him, it was all done silently but they would do it. The former was around today, his hands filled with potion ingredients ready for Harry to use and brew a potion, which was done in complete silence. The five year old boy would simply reach for each item, staring at Severus for the yes or no before continuing.

Harry’s first potion was a simple Cough Draught, which helped ease coughs, as the name of the potion suggests. Because it eased and not removed the coughs, it was listed as a beginner potion, one you’d teach pre-Hogwarts.

Severus graded it an Outstanding and watched as Harry smiled the entire day, clearly proud of his accomplishment at brewing a potion, even if it was a beginning potion.

Harry was a child that would cry over things, instead he would simply glare at it and cross his arms. For a while people thought it was because he couldn’t cry, same with being mute and not able to speak, but both were proven wrong shortly after they were thrown around.

And because Harry would never speak, he couldn’t make friends. His only friend was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to understand him completely. It was like the two of them were having silent conversations.

“Come on, Harry, it’s time for bed,” said Lily, finally able to wake up her son ,who had a blanket draped over him and was asleep in front of the fireplace with the same book he was reading two years ago. “You’ve been sleeping here for close to forty-five minutes, it’d be best to get you into a warm bed.”

She tucked her son in, who went straight back to sleep the moment he was placed in his bed. She pulled the blankets over him and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before sneaking from the room.

“I told you Sirius,” snapped James, his tone clipped and slightly cold. “Severus isn’t upto anything, at least regarding Harry.”

“James –”

“Sirius, please.”

Lily crept closer and slid open the door just a fraction, poking her head into the room.

“The sole reason that he’s here is simply for Lily and Harry, not me, not you, not anyone.”

“Please,” said Sirius, rubbing his head weakly. “I meant no harm, I just don’t trust his motives. He vanishes for months, years even and then comes back and acts as if nothing has happened?”

James let out a long sigh. “Sometimes I wish I could do the same thing, Sirius.”

“But Snivellus –”

“Sirius,” said James, standing, the chair he was sitting on toppled over. He began to pace in circles. “That isn’t a nickname I want Harry to ever say, especially not now – six years isn’t enough for us to have him, Sirius, I may not adore Severus, but it’s already hurt him enough that Harry may not make it. I don’t want Harry calling him that, if he ever speaks, and it crushing the man.”

“I guess…”

“Lily would never forgive me,” sighed James. “I don’t like arguing with you, Sirius, maybe a few years ago I would have agreed. But it was Severus who saved us. If it weren’t for him we could have been killed. Just imagine that for a moment.”

Lily took this as her queue to leave the two bickering men and begin sorting out letters. Perhaps she could still find something on this sickness that Harry had. She was the only one who knew that Severus stopped coming around a she’s been in his lab making different potions to save Harry, or at least attempt to.

She would often cook him a meal and find the man sitting at his desk, a defeated expression on his face as he shoved away notes angrily. He would mutter about being the best potions master in Britain, yet couldn’t cure Harry.


	4. Lost And Found

_Old Name_ : Growing Up (part II)

 _New Name_ : Lost And Found

 _Rewritten_ : 18/Feb/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

The year went by too fast for James and Lily Potter, who wanted nothing more than the time to just stop so they could spend it without worry with their son. Both parents sat on the sidelines and watched as their son, Harry, began to write at a phenomenal pace, as if he was making up for his lack of speech with words on a parchment. But Lily knew that her son would be smart, especially when he picked up a book and clutched it as if it was his lifeline.

Lily would occasionally walk into the kitchen at about seven in the morning and spot her son, who would be fully dressed and ready for the day with a book in his hands. For a while she did question if he was reading it, and unlike what he did many years ago, and flicking pages along the way.

She had contacted Molly Weasley last night and asked if Harry could spend the weekend. She hated to leave her son, especially with whatever he had and the fact that it appeared as if he was living on nothing less than borrowed time. She had already packed a small trunk for Harry and it sat near the door. The portkey, which would go off in an hour, sat on top of the trunk.

A portkey was the only way for Harry to travel. They had tried apparation a year ago and it made him violently sick, for three days he was unable to walk properly. Floo travel was worse, with him instantly collapsing midway through the travel. It was just lucky that Lily and Harry together.

Lily had to have a one on one chat with a mind-healer, not that she wanted to have it.

She already knew how the discussion would go. The mind-healer would ask questions about Harry, if he was abused or neglected in anyway, his overall health. Things that would make her upset because it just flooded back memories of her weak son, barely grasping onto life.

Severus was still doing what he did best and that was brewing all day and night, trying to figure out something that could help. For a while, he and Lily had argued about him resigning from Hogwarts, that way he could work fulltime on finding a cure for Harry.

By far the biggest contributor, at least according to Lily, were the Malfoys. They would push a lot of Galleons towards the research and things needed. Such as getting a portkey licence for Harry, even with Lucius’ limited sway in the Ministry, it was still a massive feat. Despite all that, it was done under the table, so no one knew why it was all being done.

Sirius helped with funding quite a bit, but the Blacks had lost most of their wealth by giving it to the previous Dark Lord during his reign of terror.

“It’ll only be for two days,” said Lily as they walked up the gravel path towards the Weasley household. “Because the Draco is busy with his other friends, you’ll have to stay here during the weekend. But don’t worry, Molly is a great person and she’s a great talker. I’m sure she’ll keep you entertained until your dad and I get back from that we have to do.”

She ignored the fact that her son sent her daggers and kicked at his shoes for a moment.

“You can take a few books with you,” she continued, ignoring the slight anger that her son had. “Go on sweetie, go pick out a few books and I’ll put them in your trunk.”

Harry nodded, turning and walked down the hallway towards his bedroom.

Harry’s bedroom was on the far left, it had a light brown door with his name on the door in childish letters, something he had designed when younger. Inside the room was rather spacious, in fact it was the second biggest room in the house. One wall held a few small bookshelves that were pushed against the wall tightly, allowing only a small gap behind them. Each shelf was littered with various books and a few small hand drawn pictures and quills. Most of the pictures were basic, nothing advanced, stick figure family pictures with a few squiggles here and there.

His toy box was placed off to the side, which only had a few trace amounts of toys in it, not a very creative child in that aspect. A large wardrobe with drawers was under the window, which had a few shirts and pants folded neatly on top of it, as well as a candle.

The walls were a sky-blue, which had little puffs of clouds floating throughout them, it was clearly designed as a child’s bedroom. The floor was carpeted with fluffy white carpeting.

Harry glanced around as he shuffled towards the bookshelves, wondering what book he could take to distract himself at the Weasley’s house. He had a few books, some advanced ones that he was able to sneakily got his mum to buy at Diagon Alley, but nothing that would occupy him for two days.

Tapping his cheek, he picked up a few different books and cradled them close to his body.

* * *

Thirty minutes passed and Harry was pulled from his reading by his mum shuffling around the sitting room. He was wearing a light blue shirt and a pair of light grey shorts, which only just covered his little knees.

“Are you ready, Harry?” asked Lily, smiling as she moved around collecting everything and stuffing it into his trunk. “You’ve packed enough books to last a lifetime.”

Harry just smiled and looked at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. The beeping from the portkey made him quickly jog towards the thing and hold it with his mum, who was giving him a questioning look.

“Hold on tight.”

The familiar tug at the naval had them both spinning and swirling instantly. The two held onto the portkey and landed on the gravel of the Weasley’s house with practices ease. Although Lily had to hold her son steady so he didn’t topple over and cut himself on the gravel.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it here,” said Lily, beginning to walk towards the house. “We landed just outside the wards, so it’ll be a pretty long walk.”

Harry glanced up the gravel path, the sun shine din his eyes, which made him scowl instantly. He squinted, but couldn’t make out anything besides the tall, sprawling corn fields and gravel path towards the house.

He hadn’t been to the Weasley’s house before, or at least at a time he could remember. He was hoping it was like Draco’s house, with large corridors and a sprawling garden that was bigger than the actual house with pretty flowers and fountains that he could draw inspiration from in a drawing or something. He remembered that his mum said they had seven children, so their house must be huge.

As he walked up the gravel path, which was now slightly swerving around a small hill, he couldn’t help but think about if this family was nice and would treat him like Narcissa and Lucius do.

The gravel was crunching under Harry’s feet which cause a slight smirk to land on his face. He was trying to make as much noise as possible and leave his shoeprint in the gravel, that way people would know that he was here. He was aware that his mum was looking at him with an exasperated expression, yet a slight trace of amusement ran through it. He took a small step forwards and held his breath slightly. He was sure the Weasley house would come into view soon.

The gravel under his shoes were scattered as he paused abruptly, looking at the house in horror.

If you could even call it a house.

The house looked like it was taken directly from a children’s Muggle fairy-tale book, and not the good kind either, it looked so… lopsided and tacky. It looked as if different materials were just piled on top of each other to create that! He had drawn better things than the house that looked as if it would fall over in a split-second.

Being completely honest, he was scared to even step foot in the house.

“The Weasley family is built from love,” said Lily, noticing the fact that her son had hesitated. “Not wealth. Molly doesn’t work, she stays at home with the children. The house is fully magical, much like ours, but ours has been designed with Muggle methods in mind. This house is done with complete magic.”

She knew if her son spoke, he would be having a fit about the house, it was clear he disliked the house. She was scared of the house herself when she first saw it, so she couldn’t blame her son.

She knocked on the door, which held small windows that had small traces of dust on them, and waited for to be opened.

It didn’t take long before the door was gently opened and Molly Weasley stood there with a wide smile on her face. She lifted her arms in a motherly action of giving out a hug.

“Lily!” she said happily, looking at Lily with almost complete happiness. “You came a little earlier than I expected, I’m surprised you didn’t floo in.”

“Harry cannot floo,” said Lily, her face betraying none of the annoyance that she felt saying it for the third time. “We portkeyed here. It took about three minutes to get up the path, but it was a nice walk.”

Molly nodded along and wrapped Lily in the hug that she had held open. “How are you dear?” gesturing inside the house. “Oh, I almost missed you. Couldn’t see you when you’re hiding behind your mum, now could I?”

“Harry doesn’t speak,” said Lily after a brief pause. “You can tell what he wants or is feeling by the way he reacts. Most times he’ll just do everything thing himself. Highly independent.”

“Right,” said Molly, her facial expression set in confusion. “Well, Neville should be along shortly. Today is the day for business, it seems. My lot are outside, they decided to cause some mischief and are now de-gnoming the garden for it.”

Harry had read about gnomes in one of his books a few months ago. Gnomes would clutter around in gardens, breeding quickly and having swarms of them in a matter of months. They would often only crowd homes that have poor gardens, such as the Weasleys or any other family that uses inferior compost for plants.

He hated the fat woman standing in front of him and he hated this foul smelling and weird looking house.

“You can go out if you want,” said Molly quickly, noticing the scowl on the boy’s face. “I’m sure Ron wouldn’t mind some help.”

Harry shook his head and shifted away from his mum’s grasp and walked towards the room that looked like a kitchen. A few moment slater Molly came in, after a whispered conversation and poured him a glass of juice.

Walking back out into the room where Lily was, Molly sighed. “So he cannot talk or won’t talk?”

“A mixture of both,” said Lily softly. “He has spoken before, but after he was sick he just refused and took to carrying around a book with him and reading it.”

“Strange,” muttered Molly, sitting down on the sofa. “He can clearly understand when people are speaking, but just cannot do it himself?”

“Yes,” replied Lily simply. “He can understand us and all that, but just doesn’t want to speak. The only person who seems to fully understand what he wants or needs is Draco Malfoy.”

The conversation drifted and morphed into other things. Ten minutes had gone by before Lily got up and said farewell to her son, who just simply smiled back and gave a little wave. She was certain that her son was wishing her the best with just his facial expressions. It was at that point that she realized you can a lot with just a smile or a simple gesture as a wave.

Harry glanced up and saw Mrs. Weasley looming over him with a smile so wife it must have hurt her mouth.

“Neville will be here soon.”

He scowled and went back to looking at the patterns on the table, his book clutched under his arm. He knew that Mrs. Weasley didn’t see the scowl, it was rather well hidden.

Neville Longbottom was slightly chubby, not fat or overweight, just a fair amount of baby weight that the boy had yet to lose. He had dark brown hair that appeared to be slight light-brown when under the sun. His hazel eyes scanned across the house and he had an expression of shock plastered all over his facial features.

Harry smiled deeply at the table, his green eyes discreetly looking at Neville Longbottom. He didn’t really blame the boy for hating this place, it was a dump.

“This place is brilliant –”

There goes that thought.

“– I never thought you’d live in a house like this, it’s all magic!” said Neville, almost breathless. “I’d love if I was able to live here!”

It was another reason to hate the Boy Who Lived, at least that’s what Harry thought as he watched as Neville Longbottom strutted around the house like he owned it and was the only person here. At least, that’s what he assumed about the Boy Who Lived anyway.

Augusta Longbottom walked in shortly after, flicking soot off her robes. She turned her nose up the house and sneered down at everyone with her bird feather hat. “I assume Neville will be in capable hands? I have an important meeting at the Ministry that I simply cannot put off any longer than I have.”

“Of course he will,” said Mrs. Weasley happily, her smile far too bright. “I’ll make sure he’s happy and safe here.”

Much to Harry’s dismay, he was soon herded out the house and towards the back garden, where everyone else was. Clutching his book as a normal child would a stuffed toy he was pushed out into the bright light by the fat red-headed woman.

“Hello,” a boy with freckles and red hair burst out, holding his dirty hand outwards. “I’m Ron, Ron Weasley.”

Harry ignored the hand with a sneer and looked across the property with a look of boredom. These people had so much property space and did nothing with it.

“That’s a bit rude,” said Ron, retracting his hand. “You could’ve at least said hello or something.”

“He doesn’t speak,” said Neville. “At least that’s what Molly said.”

Harry sneered at them and began to walk to the nearby rock which was perched under a tree off to the side. If he was forced to be out here, then he would simply read and pass the time quicker while learning something instead of wasting his time dealing with this family who had more money than they had intelligence, which said something.

“Fred and George are still de-gnoming,” said Ron in a loud voice. “You can meet them soon. I doubt they’ll stay out here much longer though.”

“De-gnoming?” asked Neville, curious. “What’s that?”

“You seriously don’t know?” asked Ron, his face filled with confusion. “I’m sure you’d have heard about this before.”

“Nope,” said Neville, dragging out the ‘o’ slightly. “My Gran said that I didn’t have to do such things, plus I’m only six!”

“I was doing this when I was at least 5,” said Ron confidently. “I’ll show you –”

“What about Harry?” Neville interrupted Ron, looking towards the slightly pale black-haired boy who was sitting on a slightly large rock, a book in hand. “Shouldn’t we teach him also?”

“He can’t talk,” started Ron, glaring at the boy. “Just leave him to read his stupid book.”

“But –”

“Neville,” said Ron, his hand was rubbing at his forehead, spreading dirt over it. “If he cannot speak, how can he ask questions to learn how to do it? He’d probably just get it wrong and waste our time.”

“Ron,” said Neville calmly, in his tone that he addressed people with, despite being so young. “He deserves to spend time with us. He can speak, he just chooses not to!”

Harry ignored the two, who seemed to be arguing over some idiotic reason. He knew that this entire weekend would be a waste of time and that he would learn a lot more at home with his books. The rock that he was on was smooth, oddly smooth and allowed him to practically lay flat on top of it, with his book open and not be blinded by the sun.

Of course, they had come up and bothered him, but he waved them off, rather rudely mind you. It was about ten minutes after that when he got curious and was drawn to the sounds of gnomes flying through the air, followed by cheers.

Walking across the grass, which was highly uneven, he made his way towards the small group of children that were happily throwing gnomes across the yard and over the fence.

It was barbaric in every way possible, but judging by the sounds the gnomes made, it appeared as if they loved it.

Inching closer and closer to the game, if that’s what it was called, and watched as Ron Weasley twirled around on the spot and released the gnome, hurling it close to thirty-five feet across the field. Soon enough he realized that the gnomes actually come out to see what was going on.

They essentially came out to get thrown across the earth. How bizarre.

“Harry,” said Neville, noticing the boy inching closer. “Do you want a go?”

Harry scowled at the gnome, which was being held out to him before he took it and lobbed it half-heartedly across the fence. It only went about fifteen feet, but he hardly even tried to lob it any further.

“Here,” said Neville, grasping at another gnome. “You need to put some power into it, it helps to give a little spin and then release.”

Anyone that could read emotions would have known that the black-haired boy with green eyes was highly furious that he was being spoken to like a child who couldn’t use a knife or fork. Being spoken to like that by someone who is the saviour and only a day older than you is really the most awful thing ever experienced, at least for the boy. But in the end it was simply that he didn’t like being told what he could and couldn’t do, nor did he like being one-upped, as it was called according to others.

This is how Harry’s competitive streak started.

It wasn’t enough that his next gnome had gone thirty-seven feet, beating Ron Weasley’s record, but he had to throw it further, beating everyone’s record.

Fifty-five feet was the record, set by Bill Weasley a few years ago.

Harry would beat that record, if not now, it would be done later.

Harry picked up one final gnome, the sole remaining gnome in the garden and did a small spin before lobbing it flying over the wall.

Ten feet… twenty feet… thirty feet… forty feet… fifty feet… fifty-five feet… sixty feet.

“Way to go!” said Neville happily, his eyes wide at the sheer power of the throw. “Looks like the record has been beaten.”

Ron, who was scowling, didn’t bother to congratulate Harry Potter for his achievement. He was meant to beat that record.

Harry grinned as he walked across the garden to collect his book. No one would know that he put a bit of extra force behind his throw with magic, no one would know and no one would dare even question him about it. After all, what six year old can do that intentionally?

He found himself sitting on another rock, although this one was quite close to the edge of the property, with his book open on his lap. He had ignored the calls of the Weasleys inviting him inside, as he wanted to finish his book before going inside and having to eat dinner, which would most likely be something foul that he didn’t want to eat.

* * *

“You can’t be out that far!” shouted Ron, who was currently being held back by his older twin brothers. “You’re far too close to the wards and sometimes things slip through a few feet before they get ejected!”

“Leave it ickle Ronniekins,” teased Fred. “He’s been out there for _hours_.”

“Yeah,” continued George. “I doubt he’ll come in now, just because _you_ called for him.”

Neville had joined in with the four of them, shooting glances between Harry, Ron and the two twins. “But –”

“No buts,” said Fred, smiling. “He’s far more interested in his book.”

“What if he cannot hear us?” blustered Neville, he dropped his eyes at the outburst, but other held his ground. “He may not hear us calling him.”

“He can hear us,” stated George firmly. “He smiles every time we’ve called out.”

“Wouldn’t call it a smile,” muttered Fred, glancing at the boy, who was smirking. “A smirk more like it.”

“Guys,” said Neville louder than needed. “It’s getting dark, we cannot just leave him there –”

“We can,” said Fred.

“And we will,” finished George.

“Mum will be furious,” grinned Ron, stopping his laughter at the sheer thought. “Not at us, at him!”

“Nah,” said Fred, losing his grin. “She’ll take his side because he can’t speak.”

“Oh yes,” continued George. “How will poor little Harry Potter ask for help?”

Neville let out a noise that sounded like a sigh.

“Surely you cannot believe this charade?”

“I do, Ron,” replied Neville honestly. “I actually believe he cannot talk.”

“Alright,” said Ron as he gave a very small shrug. “Did you hear something?”

“Gran,” said Neville, swallowing, “said he was pretty sick when he was born, something about constant colds and a fever that he couldn’t –”

“Wow!”

“Don’t interrupt Ronniekins,” snapped Fred and George together. “We want to hear the rest.”

“– get rid of. Gran said that he was most likely going to not make it and would pass on, but she heard he did alright.”

The four of them fell into discussion and reasoning behind why the boy couldn’t speak, or if he just didn’t want to. By the time their small discussion had finished they were herded inside by a frantic Molly who had vowed to keep an eye on Harry from the window.

* * *

Harry saw the three Weasleys and Longbottom leave out of the corner of his eye, which made him smirk slightly at the fact that he had won and made them give up. He had heard races of their conversation, but nothing to fill in the blanks on what they actually spoke about. He did hear his name and inside often enough though.

He caught sight of a snake, which didn’t look as if it belonged in this climate, having just read about them, slithering across the slightly dead grass and towards the base of the rock that he was sitting on. Pursing his lips he flicked his head over the side and studied the snake closely.

Before he could get a good look at it, he was almost face-to-face with the snake, who had lifted its head to be on level with him.

“ **Disgusting human** ,” hissed the snake disapprovingly. “ **Not sure why you think you can stare at me as if I’m something you can study. How do you like it**?”

Harry’s eyebrows instantly shot straight up and he narrowed his eyes at the snake who spoke to him.

“ **You can understand me** ,” hissed the snake, more to itself than to the boy.

Nodding, Harry kept his eyes firmly on the snake, not wanting it to attack him, not that he thought that it would, it seemed friendly.

“ **You can understand but not hiss**?” hissed the snake, confused.

Harry nodded, just as confused.

“ **You make no sense, human** ,” hissed the snake with a sound that suspiciously sounded like a snort. “ **I’m not having one-sided conversations**.”

Harry gave a little shrug, not sure how he was meant to hiss at the snake, how absurd.

“ **Look at me** ,” the snake hissed. “ **Now, think of something and just speak, as if you were thinking**.”

Harry did just that, his mouth moved but no sound came out.

“ **Odd** ,” the snake hissed, moving in closer. “ **It’s as if you cannot make sounds at all**.”

Harry nodded at the snake, who seemed to be almost human with how it acted. He wondered briefly if that was the case.

“ **If you can hear me** ,” began the snake, hissing with almost immense happiness. “ **It means that you’re a speaker, as no human can learn the language of the snakes**.”

Once again, Harry nodded. He felt as if he was doing that a lot tonight.

“ **Perhaps you’ve simply forgot how to hiss** ,” said the snake, lifting itself up a bit higher. “ **Can you make any sounds at all**?”

Harry shook his head. As far as he could remember, he couldn’t do anything at all that made noise. Even if he cried, it was silent.

“ **A mute**?” the snake hissed, thinking. “ **It could – no, the last speaker got his with a curse and could no longer understand us**.”

Harry watched and listened as the snake began talking to itself, or hissing as it called it, and mused over different ideas. Mainly about him and his lack of ability to make sound and that it wouldn’t be ideal to communicate with a shake of the head or anything else along those lines as it’d become confusing.

“ **I’m not sure why I’m even bothering** ,” hissed the snake in clear displeasure. “ **You should be able to at least hiss and communicate in the language of snakes, yet you cannot**.”

Harry let out a silent sigh and simply shrugged, hoping that he could at least talk to the snake. This was obviously a rare gift, as the snake seemed to be shocked and bothering with him, even if he could understand it.

“ **I’ll be around, young speaker** ,” hissed the snake. “ **Figure out your issue and then we’ll have a nice long conversation**.”

Harry gave a waving gesture and packed up his things, all while keep a close eye on the snake.

“ **Oh** ,” hissed the snake, twisting back around to face the child. “ **Bring me some mice when you next come here, I’m starving**.”


	5. On Death’s Doorstep

_Old Name_ : Growing Up (part II)

 _New Name_ : On Death’s Doorstep

 _Rewritten_ : 22/Feb/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry was sitting up on his bed, the pillow used as a makeshift cushion to lift his back into a comfortable position against the wall, which had a ghastly flowery design. He hadn’t gone back to speak to the snake yet, he would do that today and hope that something good would come of that particular encounter.

For the wildest of moments, he wondered what the snake’s name was, perhaps it was something slick like Serpentine or even Slithery.

One could only wonder.

He glanced across the room and found himself staring at Longbottom, who was twisting and turning in his sheet, thrashing about as he groaned about something. Most likely a nightmare of some sort. Even while sleeping, it seemed as if Longbottom required some sort of attention to be on him.

“Please, no, stop it,” whined Neville, his voice slightly hoarse. “Not my mu, please leave her be, please –”

Harry ignored it, he was vastly aware that the speech soon became restless muttering and almost sobs as the boy continued on in dreamland. It made him thankful that he made no noise, although he did wake up once or twice with his mum looming over him with a concerned look and her hand on his head, most likely thinking he was dead.

He flicked over the page, smiling at the knowledge on this page in the book. To some it was boring, but his mind was always a genius when it came to potions. Severus and his mum teaching him really did wonders for the brain in regards to certain subject. Of course it bought up the age old debate of how he was going to learn spells if he couldn’t speak.

Actually, that was the part he was dreading the most, others would be able to speak and he couldn’t. He’d have such an unfair advantage in classes. There was no sign language for spells, nor was there an aid to help you speak. He was told about nonverbal magic, but that was advanced stuff. Like year six and seven, as his mum had said off and on.

Of course, he could push out his magic to aid him in moving things slightly, or create fire, but that was just about it. How was he going to do anything else?

Sighing, he stood and made his way towards his trunk, half-thinking about how these people slept for so long. The sun was already up, for goodness sake. He pulled out a light grey t-shirt, a pair of blue shorts and some socks and underwear. He then walked towards the bathroom that was shown last night, he closed the door behind him and began his shower.

He placed his dirty clothes in the handmade hamper that was resting against the back of the door, he caught a glimpse of himself the mirror, it wasn’t enchanted to compliment you or anything odd like that, it was like a Muggle mirror. He gave a slight pat to his hair and attempted to place it into a neat little comb-over, it failed of course.

While he didn’t have the typical Potter hair, like his dad did, it didn’t mean that his was perfect and did what he wanted it to.

“Morning,” greeted Arthur quietly. “I almost thought that you were one of mine. The only person who wakes up early is Percy.”

Harry smiled and nodded, his shifted out of the open door and towards the dining room, or the room with the dodgy looking table.

“I’m sure Molly will be down in just a sec,” he continued, sitting across from the boy and checking the Daily Prophet, which had just arrived. “She usually begins to cook early, hoping that she gets it all done and can start on her knitting.”

Harry wasn’t sure how long he actually had sat there and either nodded or shook his head politely at whatever Arthur Weasley had said. Sometimes the man raved on about his job or Muggle things and never seemed to mind that the conversation was one-sided.

Eventually he just smiled and left the table, walking towards the front door with a determined gleam in his eye. He gently opened the door and slid out onto the small little porch thing that was on the Weasley’s doorstep. He stood on the front step and glanced up towards at the sun which was slowly rising in the sky. He knew that the day would be horrible, it was easy to tell just by looking at the sky and it’s slightly depressing air that it was pushing out.

“Harry,” said Neville, carefully opening the door and joining the boy on the front porch. “Are you alright?”

Harry nodded, somehow questioning how he found himself in this situation. The reason he came out here was simply to remain alone and actually be able to think without Longbottom, of all people, yapping in his ear all day. He twisted his neck to get a better look at Longbottom, who was just hit by a light breeze, which swept his hair from his forehead, revealing that lightning bolt scar that had girls all over the world dropping to their hands and feet, throwing money at his feet as if he were some God.

“I haven’t done anything to annoy you, have I?”

Harry did debate about nodding to the question, but in the end just went ahead and shook his head, hoping this conversation would be done quickly. Not being able to speak had its privileges.

“Alright,” said Neville, somewhat happily. “I’m glad that I haven’t annoyed you or that you hate me.”

Harry couldn’t help but not roll his eyes as he pondered the question, or statement. Did he actually hate Longbottom? Perhaps in some sense he disliked the boy, but hate was a very powerful emotion, one that can ruin even the strongest friendship in a split-second.

It was such a mature thought for such a small boy.

“You’re bleeding!” said Neville in shock, spotting the slight red trail of blood on Harry’s lip. “I’ll get Molly, be right back.”

Harry shook his head, telling him that he didn’t need help. He was treated like such a frail person, he just simply bit his lip to hard and broke the skin, nothing new. He slid his finger to his lip and flicked away the trail of blood easily.

Now all he had to do was wash it off at a nearby tap, which was off to the side of the house.

“ **There you are**.”

Harry turned to the familiar voice and couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He got on his knees and sat there, looking at the snake.

“ **I asked around** ,” hissed the snake calmly, it lifted its head up slightly to be eye level with the human, “ **and found nothing on the matter. None other of the mighty serpents know why you cannot voice the noble tongue**.”

Harry made the realization in his mind that the snake in front of him actually wanted to speak to him and not with gestures as he usually did towards other people.

Maybe that was the reason that this whole situation unnerved him slightly.

* * *

The morning slowly breezed into afternoon, lunch was just simple sandwiches and nothing major that people would dive over for, unlike at the Malfoy Manor, which had meals for every day meals that you’d only find at the most exquisite restaurants. The dreadful weather hadn’t vanished, instead it lurked about, pushing grey clouds over the blue sky, causing the mood to dampen slightly with the promise of future rain.

Of course, that didn’t stop children from running outside and playing as if it was the last thing they could ever do. Except for one boy, he was sitting inside with a book propped open on the kitchen table, an empty glass of juice next to him.

Harry’s face merged into one of pain, he was screaming, but nothing came out. He was sure that Mrs. Weasley would have had a heart attack if she heard him suddenly make a noise. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, which was beginning to line with tears. He saw Mrs. Weasley shifting around in the kitchen, seemingly unaware of what was going on.

The corner of his vision soon became black, his head was throbbing and he felt as if he wasn’t going to be able to hold his stomach.

Not being able to make noise really sucked, as unless he was checked on, no one would know and he would just sit here and deal with it. His mum would come by every fifteen minutes at home and make sure he was alright, and was exceptionally vigilant when it came to anything dangerous.

“Would you like any juice, Harry?” asked Mrs. Weasley with a smile. She had noticed the boy sitting there earlier, not at all wanting to be outside. “I can fetch you anything you want, it’ll be no issue at all.”

Harry was at least slightly pleased, even as his conscious faded in and out, he knew that the woman should turn and see what his response was, after all, he couldn’t answer that verbally.

“Harry?” asked Molly once more, turning to see if the boy wanted juice or not. She had forgot momentarily that he couldn’t speak and therefore waited for a verbal answer. Shaking her head, she turned and looked at the boy. She dropped the glass that she was holding when she saw the poor child writhing on the table as if he was getting hit by the torture curse.

Molly was by no means at all, a weak woman. She had birthed seven children over the years, and two of them were twins. She lifted the boy and placed him on the sofa and made him comfortable. She didn’t want to leave him at all, so she hoped another child would come in soon, or Arthur.

It was if Merlin himself had heard her pleas and sent someone to idly wander in the house, in this case, it was her youngest son.

“Ron,” she said quickly, startling him. “Please go into your dad’s shed and fetch him. Even if you find a million Galleons on the ground, leave it and get your dad!”

Ron gave a shaky nod and swept from the room as if he was being chased by a large spider. He didn’t question whatever had happened, but he knew that it would be wise to try and keep everyone from in there while his mum and dad spoke. Perhaps Potter broke something and would be getting scolded.

“Dad,” bellowed Ron as he pushed open the door. “Mum wants you, it’s urgent!”

Arthur nodded in thanks as he dashed from the shed, locking it with a swift wand action as he ran towards the house. “Molly,” he said as he entered the house, glancing around. “What’s going on?”

“Thank Merlin,” said Molly, almost in tears. “Please floo Lily and get her over here. It’s Harry, I’m not sure what happened.”

“Right,” said Arthur, walking towards the fireplace. “I’ll just do it now.”

“It’ll be alright, Harry,” soothed Molly softly, not sure if the boy was even conscious to hear her words, but she felt as if she had to say them. She had hoped that Ron would use his head and keep everyone out, but she was sure that Arthur would have actually ran, which wasn’t common unless something big was going on.

Of course that would never happen.

“Mum, what’s going on?” asked Percy as he walked inside the house, ignoring whatever Ron had said. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” said Molly with a slight sigh. “Everything is fine, just go back outside for now.”

Before Percy could reply a frantic appeared, her red hair flicking wildly with the loud crack that filled the room as she landed just near the front door.

“Thank you for allowing me to go through the wards, Arthur,” said Lily frantically, her eyes darting around the room until they landed on her son. “Can you hear me, Harry?”

When there wasn’t any sign of acknowledgement, Lily panicked. Her finger still resting against his slight cold, pale cheek, she reached into her bag and pulled out a few potions and attempted to feed them to her son, which she had to force him to swallow with a very simple Swallowing Charm.

“What happened?” she asked, still forcing potions into her son’s mouth.

“He was just sitting there,” said Molly. “I asked him if he wanted anything to drink and that’s how I found him.” She paused and looked around at anything besides the almost frantic Lily, who seemed to be on the verge of tears, but kept herself composed. “It could have been that snake that he was with yesterday, but I’m not sure.”

“A snake?” asked Lily, sitting up a bit straighter. “What do you mean by a snake, surely a snake wasn’t up in the house.”

“No, no, no…” said Molly, trailing off for a moment before snapping back to the conversation. “In the garden, he was sitting on a rock and the two seemed to have a staring contest. In the end the two pretty much were on the rock reading the book... I just thought it may have bit him, but it seems highly delayed.”

Lily made a noise of agreement. “Harry has always seen snakes are good companions. I assume it has to do with the fact that he cannot speak, so the snakes sense whatever emotion he’s feeling. Snakes tend to enjoy his silent company. For a while they used to just slither over him, I doubt he remembers half of that though. Not to mention that he had a boa sitting near his cot and would protect him rather vehemently when he was about three.”

Ron, who had just walked back in, made a disgusted noise and instantly went quiet at the stares he got from everyone in the room.

“I assume it did no harm, he could pick one up and throw it – not that he would, of course – and the snake would slither back to his side and just sit there.”

“Wow!” one of the twins muttered before getting shooed out of the room by Molly.

“I may have to just take him to St. Mungo’s,” sighed Lily, not wanting to move her already fragile son, who appeared to be still. “I’m not sure what to do… I cannot just leave him like this. He could be in immense pain and we couldn’t even tell unless he physically showed us.”

Lily sighed. “As for what’s happened to him, it may be wise to take him to St. Mungo’s.”

“I don’t think it’s wise to take him to St. Mungo’s, Lily,” said Molly softly, her eyes filling with concern. “I know something must be done, but moving him will just cause him distress. It may be wise to contact Dumbledore or something, I’m sure he knows.”

“You’re right,” said Lily. “I’d have to portkey him, and we all know that using a portkey is a bad thing to do when you’re highly sick.”

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring straight at a dark wooden door, which had no glass and no way to see inside. He softly knocked on it and took a small step backwards when it opened the moment his small knuckles connected with the door. He slowly took a step forwards, poking his head into the doorframe, gently opening the door fully.

He took small steps as he entered the house, ignoring the ominous creek as he stepped inside. His entire mind was telling him to flee and just spin around and run away, that this was some cruel nightmare and that he’d wake if he got away.

Like every horror made, the moment he was inside the door slammed closed.

“Hello,” came a voice just from the side of the dark room. “I don’t find many on my doorstep.”

Harry twisted his head to try and find out where the voice had come from.

“Most tend to beg the moment they come here,” the voice said a few moments later, the voice cutting through the silence like a knife through warm butter. “It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t beg and plead, even though I enjoy it.”

Harry glanced around, finally seeing the person who was speaking, he took a few small steps forwards. After all, if this was his own nightmare, this person couldn’t exactly hurt him.

“I guess that thought is accurate,” the voice said. “Except this isn’t a nightmare.”

Harry looked around, not quite understanding. If it wasn’t a nightmare, then what was it?

“Oh,” said the voice. Footsteps followed the ominous voice. “How silly of me to forget that you cannot speak.”

Harry glared at the figure, finally knowing where it was approaching from. Despite the fact that the footsteps sounded as if they were artificially created.

“Try, child,” the voice mocked. “Try and speak, I know you know how to, voice that and channel it and let it out.”

Harry sneered at first, but decided to try it regardless. If he could speak then he could have his questions answered on why he was in this drab looking house and when he would be able to return home, hopefully he would be home. He had no idea what house was worse, this one or the Weasley’s.

“I don’t have all day, child,” said the voice, seemingly mere inches away from the boy. “Go on, speak.”

“Hello,” said Harry softly, his face set in an expression of tenseness that would make even the most tense man alive look happy and contempt. In most sense he didn’t actually expect to sound as if he had spoken all his life. His voice was oddly soft, unlike Draco’s which seemed to be a little deeper, perhaps that was because of constant use, but his sounded velvety.

“All ailments, whether small from a knee-scrape to not being able to speak are cured here,” said the voice silkily. “Let’s just say you had a broken leg when you came here, it’d be fixed, if you couldn’t walk – you get the point.”

“So,” said Harry, dragging the ‘o’ as he said it. “Where exactly am I?”

“No begging… no crying… nothing?” said the voice. “I could get used to this.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” snapped Harry, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No need to be so testy about it,” said the voice softly, just above a whisper. “I guess this place has no real name, as it’s mine, so it could be called anything. Some would call it some kind of Purgatory, others a state of limbo, but I, as it’s mine, call it none of those, as you’re simply in my house.”

“You house?” repeated Harry, his facial expression was one that showed how much he thought of the ridiculousness of the situation. “So I appeared on your doorstep?”

“Yes,” said the voice with a sigh. “You appeared on my doorstep, or better known as Death’s doorstep.”

“So, I’m dead?”

“Yes.”

‘Well then,’ thought Harry. ‘This was an interesting turn of events.’

He listened to Death’s introduction about himself and what he does, and then explain that not everyone can live long lives and that everyone has a determined death date and that it can be increased but not stopped as everyone dies eventually. It was all so morbid that he felt as if he was being pranked by someone, like he was hit by a spell that induced paranoid, actually he would have to see if one of those existed, it could be interesting – oh right, he was dead.

“You seem to be taking this well,” said Death, almost eerily. “As I said before, most cry and whine at my feet.”

“Why would I bother?” asked Harry sarcastically. “If I’m already dead, I have nothing to lose by just standing here and listening –”

“And what if I was to offer you a second chance, seeing as you interest me so?” interrupted Death with a smirk that didn’t fit his face. He flicked his hand and a dark throne appeared by him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the fact that the door that you entered from is still there, and it is openable, yet you made no move for it.”

Harry didn’t bother to turn and look. “As well as the one across from you,” he said, staring at Death. “As well as those two over there. I assume one leads to Heaven and the other to Hell?”

“No,” said Death with a sigh. “One is light and the other is dark.”

“Really?” said Harry, lifting himself up a bit higher to try and peak in, despite the fact he door were wooden. “Like light and dark magic?”

“That is a simple way to explain it.”

“Nice,” said Harry softly.

Death gave a seat to Harry and allowed the boy to sit before he enlarged it so they were pretty much eye to eye when speaking. “I’m aware you love to read, so let’s experiment a little,” he flicked his wrist towards the doors and the two doors turned into marble pedestals with a book on each. “One book represent slight magic and the other represents dark magic. What book would you read?”

“I don’t – I have no idea,” said Harry, biting into his bottom lip. “What’s on the covers?”

“I’ll help you a little more than just that,” said Death. “The light book is protection and healing. Inside is spells that no one knows, spells that could save someone, even if they were on the very inch of death. It’s protective, like a mother, yet warm like a fire in the harsh winter.”

Harry nodded, glancing at the pure white cover of the book. “And the dark book?”

“The dark book is destruction and power. It contains spells that could tear through the strongest of wards, spells to raise your own army, spells that could do anything you ever wished with a simple flick of your wand. Its darkness, it cloaks instead of protects, it makes you invisible. But it’s cold, it’ll slowly turn you cold, the more you use it.”

“I see you went more in detail with one book,” said Harry sceptically.

“Perhaps because I’m Death, child,” said Death as if this should have been public knowledge already. “I have simply read the dark book far more times than you’ve been alive in seconds. I can almost repeat that entire book of the tip of my head without an issue. As for that other book, I haven’t ever touched it, I just know what it contains, in slight detail.”

“Fascinating,” said Harry, still looking at the books. “How you turn the doors into books?”

“What part of me being Death is going over your head?” muttered Death in an exasperated tone. He sat up straighter and glared at the boy. “I should just end you now and rid myself of this headache that I’m getting.”

“How do you get a headache?” asked Harry, curious. “I didn’t think that Death could get a headache.”

“That’s it,” snapped Death, vanishing Harry’s chair. He had an expression of immense satisfaction when he saw the boy topple to the floor with a yelp. “In order for you to read the book you must return here – hopefully when I’m not present – as you cannot take it with you.”

“So I have to die again?” asked Harry, getting up on his feet. “What happens if I die for good?”

“I’m Death,” said Death, rubbing his head. “You must pass by me to actually die.”

“You know,” said Harry, inching closer to the books. “This is rather cliché, isn’t it? At least from what I have read in any books by Muggles… this is so overused in any of them that revolve around this.”

“I’m tempted to send you back without the ability to read.”

“– I wonder if someone you allowed to keep living kept the experience and wrote about it.”

“Each mortal will see something different,” said Death, finally liking the direction of conversation. “It depends on what they believe in when they die, it caters to them, should their final moments alive be their happiest. A woman may be surrounded by deceased family members if that’s what she wants and others may be alone.”

“Why was I here?”

“You had no memorable moments,” said Death in a bored tone. “But I pulled you here regardless. I couldn’t allow you to leave just yet…” he continued off, rambling.

“What did you say?” asked Harry, only mere inches from the books. “I didn’t catch whatever you said.”

“I was thinking about the future,” said Death. “I’m not a Seer, but I know whenever someone will die, as I explained earlier. You dying so early would change everything.”

“Mm, okay.”

“Now pick a book, read the first chapter and then put it back.”

“Why cannot I read more?” asked Harry lifting up the black book. “What if I want to read it all in one sitting?”

Death laughed. “It may appear small, but it’ll take you many years to grasp just the basics.”

Harry sighed and sat on the ground, his legs crossed and began reading the book. The very first entry was a potion that would essentially kill him and put him in priority in the Death Queue, allowing him to come here without an issue. He wondered what would happen if anyone else drank.

“Nothing,” said Death, looming over him. “If you’re not ready to come back here, the same will happen to you.”

“How often can I come here?”

“About once a month,” said Death. “I see you’re a Parselmouth… how interesting. It makes this whole step so much easier. Find a snake, a venomous one, and bond with it. You’ll need its venom.”

* * *

Harry slowly opened his eyes, which he instantly closed the moment a light pushed straight into them. He wasn’t happy with Death, the rude ejection the moment he finished the chapter did nothing for him. He had questions, a lot of them. Would he be able to speak now? Why was he even sick in the first place? Seeing Death instantly changed the conversation topic when that second one came up even in the slightest. He didn’t doubt the man would make him sick just to allow him to die naturally for the first time.

Slowly opening his right eye, avoiding the bright light, he slowly looked around the room. He did hope that time didn’t pass too much here. For that, he was thankful, at least he wasn’t buried alive or something else idiotic that Death wouldn’t have looked to, as the man said, he wasn’t a Seer.

“– what should we do?” said a voice, just in the other room. “He hasn’t moved in twenty or so minutes! Every Diagnostic Charm has failed.”

“Calm down, Lily,” came the next familiar voice. “We knew this could happen and you cannot have any children until we’re sure the issue is fixed.”

“I know, but Harry!”

A loud sob filled the house, which just so happened to be the Weasley house.

The rest of the conversation became hushed after the loud sob of a broken woman.

Harry slowly stood, he realized that he had been changed and he was wearing white clothes, ones you’d find in a hospital. ‘Looks like mum hasn’t grown out of that,’ he thought almost happily.

‘ _Of course she hasn’t_ ,’ came his own rampant thoughts. ‘ _She’ll always overreact, even if you just scrape your knee, she’s your mother_.’

The voice startled Harry, it most defiantly wasn’t his own thoughts as he couldn’t hear them as if they were whispered in his ear. If it lingered he would call the voice Tom, simply because it was a nice name. Honestly, he should have been worried there was another voice inside his head, as it made him seem like he was mental, but he was used to such oddities.

‘ _Stop reminiscing and find that snake_ ,’ whispered Tom.

Harry scowled and slowly walked from the room, tiptoeing so he made no noise. Perhaps it was wrong that he should go on a hunt for a snake rather than reassuring his mum that he was alive.

‘ _Attempt to speak Parseltongue to the snake_ ,’ said Tom once more, startling the boy on purpose. ‘ _It’ll be easier to speak and won’t hurt your throat as much_.’

Harry nodded, for a reason he had no idea why, and went to hunt for the snake, which he found was sitting just outside the front door on the Weasley’s house. He was so eager to attempt to speak in the real world and not in a place between life and death, or whatever it was called. Death’s realm, perhaps?

“ **Watch it** ,” hissed the snake in displeasure. “ **You almost stepped on me, you foul human**.”

Harry knelt down and smirked at the snake, which seemed to be flicking out its tongue at him.

“ **You smell different** ,” hissed the snake, flicking out its tongue once more. “ **You’re my speaker, yes, but you smell so different, as if you left earth and went somewhere else. You have a smell of the dampness, the darkness**.”

Harry did try and speak, but unlike last time when he tried nothing came out, this time his throat hurt like something was strangling him. Whereas before his voice was nice and smooth and it hardly hurt to speak, it now pained him to even try and breathe loudly. Despite the pain and uncomfortableness that he felt, he would keep trying to get over the pain, perhaps a potion to soothe the throat could help.

“ **Those humans in there** ,” hissed the snake, not aware that his speaker was attempting to speak. “ **Disgusting creatures, try and hit me with a long stick and some kind of bright light**.”

Harry laughed, perhaps what shocked him the most is that he actually laughed, not silently as he usually did, but noise came out. He stared at the snake in shock.

“ **You made noise, youngling** ,” hissed the snake, almost happily. “ **Keep going, make that sound again**.”

That was how Harry spent the next ten minutes of his time. Experimenting with noises until they didn’t sound so broken and didn’t pain his throat when he did it. Perhaps that’s all he had to do to make the pain ease, keep ploughing through with minor noises until he could handle anything else. He was aware that no one was around him, as he would occasionally lift his head and look into the room where he was before.

“ **I think that I can speak Parseltongue with no issues** ,” hissed Harry. “ **It doesn’t hurt at all**.”

“ **I told you that before** ,” hissed the snake with a sound that sounded like a sigh.

It didn’t take much longer for a scream to echo throughout the house and slowly push outside.

“Harry’s missing!” said Lily frantically, picking up and putting down things.

“Perhaps,” said Severus, following the obvious clues that had been left by the boy with his eyes. “He simply got up and went for a walk.”

“But he was dead!” wailed Lily, looking torn between believing it. “Every spell came back negative, he didn’t even have a pulse.”

“There’s been plenty of cases where people have died and come back,” said Severus, looking out the window. “Look, there he is, sitting outside.”

“Harry,” breathed Lily. She had thrown open the door with enough force to crack the glass in it. “I’m glad you’re alright!”

Severus repaired the glass, but he approached cautiously. He had seen people die and then come back and be different people completely. They rattled on about tales of Death and being healed, only to be destroyed again. Being scared of death wasn’t a common thing, but being scared of Death was, the actual being which a lot of witches and wizards believed to be alive. For all he knew, Harry could be so broken that he attacks the first person he sees or he could be completely healed and be the same person he once was, besides being sick.

Anyone who came back from being dead was called Death’s Favourite, a stupid title, but it marked them mentally that they were a servant of Death. He just hoped that this wasn’t the case with Harry, it’d take months if not years of subtle watching to figure out the truth.

“Look mum,” said Harry weakly. “I found a snake.”

“Y-you spoke!”

“Yeah,” said Harry, coughing. “Still hurts a bit to, but something happened and fixed me… I’m not sure.”

“This is a miracle!”

Harry just smiled and gestured towards the snake that was slithering around him. “This is Jörmungandr.”

“Jor – huh – how do you say its name?” said Lily, glancing at the snake and her son, who could now speak.

“Jörmungandr,” said Harry slowly, pronouncing each syllable of the word. “Or Jörmy for short. Either would be fine.”

“ **That’s a terrible name** ,” hissed the snake, its head held up high. “ **One, I’m a female, and two, I already have a name**.”

“I think it’s a girl,” said Harry absent-mindedly.

“ **Nagini, my name is Nagini. It’s what my old master called me**.”

“Yeah,” continued Harry, ignoring Nagini. “It’s a girl, which means I’ll call her Nagini.”

“I cannot object to you having a pet snake,” said Lily. “Just look after it and make sure you keep it occupied. I don’t want to wake up one morning and see the snake in the middle of the floor.”

Severus disagreed with how Lily handled the situation. Treating it as if it never happened wasn’t a good idea, but he would remain silent.


	6. A Trip to Diagon Alley

_Old Name_ : All Grown Up

 _New Name_ : A Trip to Diagon Alley

 _Rewritten_ : 24/Feb/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry spent the next four years of his life almost learning everything he could with speech, from etiquette to proper manners. He had one of the best teacher for it, and that was none other than Narcissa Malfoy. Said woman had been so happy that he had learned how to speak properly and she promptly sat him and Draco down and began to explain pure-blood etiquette almost instantly.

It ranged from each different hand gesture you could do, from a relaxed hand posture to a clenched hand. Each different gesture had a different meaning for the upper echelon of pure-blood society. Then there was the facial expressions, which he had already half-mastered in some aspects. It wasn’t wise to wear your expression on your face, as it’d give others material on you, whether something annoyed you or made you weak at the knees.

And that was just the introductory section!

Harry had no idea that each word had multiple ways of pronouncing it without looking like a fool. It wasn’t just accents, some words had to be pronounced a certain way or you’d be like a common blood traitor and neglecting wizarding beliefs. Defining what exactly a blood traitor is was almost hard to accomplish, due to the fact that the most recent war skewed that opinion. The term was used so loosely in the current age because of how the phrase was once used.

He treasured each lesson by Narcissa, as when he was at Malfoy Manor, he was able to play with Draco, who was happy that he could now talk, although their method of communication was always a secret and kept being utilized when either was in trouble and they needed words to get out of something. He and Draco ended up becoming inseparable, always plotting and striking up devious plans to get out of anything that managed to happen.

He continued to make and mess around with potions; it was a great distraction to pass the time. He was mostly supervised while making them, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking around and making them in secret. He kept his small figure, which he didn’t expect to lose until he was a bit older, he however did grow a tiny bit. He was still very thin and short for his age. It didn’t bother him, just made it all that easier to hide from people when he wanted to be alone.

He and Draco began to practice spells together with a practice wand. Draco took better to spells while Harry seemed to struggle a bit, which infuriated him to say the least.

Harry woke up early, as he usually does, with a smile on his face. Today was his birthday, and that meant something special, as it hadn’t come yet, would come. That thing was of course his acceptance at Hogwarts. He knew that Draco had gotten his just after his birthday and that he had to send in his confirmation by July the 31st, which was today!

He slowly crawled out of bed, yawning, and stood in the center of his room, silently debating on whether or not he should get changed from his pyjamas or just go out how he is. The last thing he wanted was to walk into the sitting room and be embarrassed by his attire. But he knew that most people didn’t celebrate a magical child’s eleventh birthday, as you know, it was a special day reserved for family.

He did regret staying up until midnight to wish himself a happy birthday, but it was tradition and now he would pay for it.

“Morning, Harry,” said Lily cheerfully. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Harry evaded the kiss which would have landed in the center of his forehead and gave his mother a pointed look. “Good morning, mother,” he said cheerfully, despite his tiredness. “Whatever you feel like, I’m not very fussy.”

“I almost forgot!” said Lily in a mock tone of surprise. “Today is your birthday! What are you now, ten?”

“I’m eleven!”

“Of course you are, sweetie,” continued Lily, ignoring him completely. “As you know, nothing will be done today, we’ll just spend it as a family and then we’ll head down to Diagon Alley and get your school supplies. Of course we’ll need to wait for your letter for that.”

“Fantastic,” said Harry. “I didn’t really want a party this year anyway, I just want to spend it with you guys.”

“Your dad should be home soon, he’s just got a few things to do at work,” said Lily as she placed food onto her son’s plate.

“Alright,” said Harry happily. “There’s not much I actually need to do today, right?”

“Not really, just the essentials.”

“Good, good,” said Harry, stabbing a piece of bacon with his fork.

“If I recall right, today will be the busiest day at Diagon Alley, most children get their supplies today, I know I did.”

“Interesting,” said Harry. “I had no idea that my birthday is the day that everyone tended to visit Diagon Alley.”

“Yes,” laughed Lily. “Regardless, what plans do you have today?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to sit around and wait for my letter and then we could go to Diagon Alley, perhaps,” said Harry, stabbing his plate with his fork, spearing a piece of bacon, “then do some shopping.”

“There’s no need to be so aggressive with the plate,” scolded Lily, worrying for her plate as her son stabbed it.

“Sorry,” muttered Harry, his face set in an apologetic expression.

Lily couldn’t help but chuckle. That look that her son was giving her now was something James did when he was scolded. Like father like son. “Shopping can be joyous, if you make it so. You’ll be getting a tone of new books, your wand and some new robes.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, there’s more, of course,” said Lily. “But you’ll have to wait until we actually get your letter until we can see what exactly you need.”

“I’m not looking forward to the clothes shopping,” muttered Harry, defeated. “I do enough of that with Narcissa and Draco.”

“I assure you, it’s nothing extravagant or nice looking.”

“That does make sense,” said Harry quietly. “At the moment, I have enough clothes to last me three lifetimes. What about pets? Will I be able to bring along Nagini?”

Lily pursed her lips and had to think about it for a moment. In her years no one had a snake as a familiar. There was a Hufflepuff who had a hawk as a familiar, as odd as it was. Also there was a Slytherin who had a pet crow, but those two fought often it appeared.

“I’m not sure,” she said finally, done with her thinking. “If what we’ve learned over the years about Nagini, it’s the fact that she’s very venomous and very fast. I don’t think the headmaster would allow her in unless she lost her venom.”

“It’d kill her,” said Harry sadly. “Not due to losing her venom, but she wouldn’t be able to hunt or defend herself as she likes to do.”

“Exactly,” said Lily sternly. “So no trying to sneak her on-board the train.”

“You’ll look after her, right?”

“Yes,” replied Lily calmly.

“You’ll feed her the right meals?”

“Yes,” repeated Lily.

“You’ll let her hunt and –”

“Yes, Harry,” interrupted Lily. She held back the laugh that threatened to emerge.

“I was just making sure,” said Harry, glaring at the table.

“I already know what she likes food wise, and how to tend to her,” said Lily, taking pity on her son. “I’m sure we’ll be fine while you’re away at Hogwarts.”

The two continued to converse, although it was mainly Harry, making sure his mother knew exactly how to feed Nagini. It had taken him many months to learn the proper grooming spells so that he could teach his mother to do them without causing an issue. It saved creating a colony of mouse or rats and letting Nagini hunt them from, not that they had the space for it.

It was about forty-five minutes later when James walked in, holding a rather bright looking box. “Good morning, Harry,” he said, shifting the box from Harry’s view. “I honestly didn’t think that you’d be up yet, seeing as you were up until about midnight, just a little bit over.”

Harry scowled.

“Of course,” continued James. “That means that I must make today as exhausting for you as possible, even if it is your birthday.”

“Alright,” said Harry, unfazed. “What’s in the box?”

“What were you doing up after midnight anyway?” asked Lily, giving her son a look that said it all. “You know that your bedtime is at the last ten o’clock!”

“I like to wish myself a happy birthday,” said Harry, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What’s in the box?”

“You like to wish yourself a happy birthday?”

“What’s in the box?” asked Harry once more. Normally he’d be a little more mature than to beg about the contents of a box, but today he felt a little more childish than usual. Perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep.

“James, please explain the box,” said Lily as she rubbed her head. She wasn’t used to Harry speaking like an actual child, especially since he began learning all about etiquette and such, he was always a mature spoken child. It was surprising to hear him speak so child-like. “Just quench Harry’s curiosity, please.”

“Your present,” said James, evading the question. “I just have to add some minor touches.”

Ah, the minor touches.

Each year one present would be given the royal run over by the leader of the Marauders, or so he claimed, and turned into something prank worthy. The term used against it was simply to Marauder-ify the presents. It was easily summoned up in three words: It’s not pleasant.

It ranged from simple things such as exploding wrapping paper, or wrapping paper that was cursed, so when you touched it your skin would change colour to the pattern on the wrapping paper. Ribbons that attached themselves to your forehead if you opened them too roughly and even ones that would wrap themselves back up if you ripped the paper in the slightest. Some may see it as good fun, but after many years with various presents exploding in your face or your skin being changed colour, it loses its appeal.

James did deserve praise for it however, it was genius and if he put his mind to it, he could almost put Zonko's Joke Shop out of business with the different types of charms and jinxes that he had made over the years.

“Sounds interesting,” said Harry solemnly.

“I still find it odd that you stay up to wish yourself a happy birthday,” said James, ignoring the scowl he got in favour of tinkering with the top of the box.

“It may be odd to you, but it isn’t to me,” snapped Harry, his eyes slightly narrowed. “I’ve done it since I was about seven, it’s a tradition. Despite that I got about four hours sleep, I was still up before most other children.”

“Of course,” said Lily happily. It was a trait of her son’s that she adored, the fact he was an early riser.

“I’m going to brush my teeth,” said Harry after a long silence. He swept from the room with a scowl on his face.

“I think you offended him,” said Lily with a slight chuckle. She watched her son sweep from the room in a very Severus-like fashion. “Upsetting the birthday boy before its even lunchtime, you just have to set records.”

“ **Hello, Nagini** ,” hissed Harry after he shut his door. “ **I cannot bring you to Hogwarts with me, but mother has promised that she’ll look after you**.”

“ **Youngling, you woke me up from a peaceful sleep** ,” hissed Nagini as she slowly lifted her head off the log that it was on. “ **Thank you for letting me know that you’re leaving, do be safe, youngling**.”

“ **I’m not leaving yet**.”

“ **What a shame** ,” hissed Nagini, dropping her head back onto the log and easily slipping back into a peaceful sleep.

Harry stared at the snake with a look that was mixed between confusion and annoyance eat being shrugged off just like that.

‘ _I did warn you that bonding with the snake would siphon of parts of your own personality_ ,’ whispered Tom, almost tauntingly. ‘ _It’s just a little bit of you, in snake form_.’

Harry muttered under his breath and left his bedroom, leaving Nagini to sleep in relative peace as he did so. He rushed off to the bathroom and brushed his teeth with the mind toothpaste that was recently bought. Of course, most witches neglected such things and shrugged them off, claiming them as pointless. He was glad that he was able to get Draco to use them, even though that took a few months of convincing.

He made his way back towards the sitting room, where his parents were sitting around on the sofa, bored expressions on their faces.

“Anything you want to do while we wait for your letter?” asked Lily in her usual happy tone. She watched her son sit down with a bright smile. “I’m sure we can find something to preoccupy the time.

* * *

It was about three hours later, perhaps closer to four, when Harry had grown bored of playing Exploding Snap and chess, as if they were the only games ever made. There was only a certain amount of chess moves that he could do before he expired them all, or all the good ones. He was taught chess by Severus, at a very young age, mind, and he took to it like a moth to a flame. It was a common phrase that he heard, that he would have a knack for strategy.

Severus would often teach him various ways to play, as well as scolding his slightly rash moving of the pieces. He had the brain power to plan, and plot how he wanted to act, but more often than not he’d ruin it by getting impatient and just moving a piece anywhere on the board that it could go.

It really couldn’t be labelled to Gryffindor-ish behaviour, as it wasn’t exactly like a Gryffindor would act, at least according to his father, which was ignored by Severus completely, every time.

But those days were long gone, and Severus had stopped coming around, due to workload or other reasons. Harry did try and flick away the pain that always crept up when he thought about the Potions Master, but it was a losing battle.

During a moment of silence, a tawny looking owl began to tap on the window with its beak, the sound was so loud in the quiet room that all threw of the Potters jumped slightly.

“I’ll fetch it,” said Lily, sending her son a look which showed what her plans was by saying that she’d get it instead of him.

“Who is it from, mother?” asked Harry calmly, not wanting to appear too eager.

“I’m not sure,” said Lily softly, turning over the letter in her hands, examining it slowly. “Perhaps it was delivered to the wrong house.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Harry confused. “According to my book on owls, which I got just last year, it says that an owl will very rarely get lost and if it does, it won’t drop off the letter. Depending on who it’s for, sometime san owl will give the letter to a family member to pass on if the recipient isn’t available.”

James failed to hold his snort and quickly occupied with clearing off the chessboard and the Exploding Snap cards, making room for the letter. He acted as if he didn’t see the glare from his wife.

“It’s from Hogwarts, I assume it’s for you,” said Lily finally, gently handing her son the letter.

Harry very carefully took the letter, as if nudging it in the wrong way would cause it to combust and turn to ash. He was planning to hang this in his room, after all. “Dear, Mr. Potter,” he read slowly, anticipation hanging in the air. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.” He drew a rather long breath and exhaled it instantly. “I was accepted!”

“Of course you were, Harry,” said Lily, chuckling. “Today is the day that we must confirm by, so I better get writing so that you can attend.” She instantly leaned over and began to write out a mock note, which would most likely be burned as soon as they left. It was mainly for Harry, and nothing else as she had already confirmed that he’d be attending. “It’s lucky you were born today and not tomorrow, else you would have had to wait a whole year before you could go.”

“We’ll go to Diagon Alley soon,” said James, sensing Harry’s impatience coming at full force. “Most likely straight after Lily has sent off the letter for you, that’d be a good time.”

“Right – well – can I have that letter?” asked Harry, inching towards it. “It’s just that I’d love to hang it up in my room, that way I can remember it, you know.”

“Sure,” said Lily calmly, she had just finished writing the letter. “I’ll just duplicate it now and you can take it now and hang it up, that way it doesn’t get lost.”

What a perfect excuse.

Harry grabbed the letter and sprinted up the hallway and into his bedroom, eagerly searching for something to place it on, which he did, a small little photo frame that fit perfect with the letter. He smiled at it before rushing back down the stairs to see if his parents were ready to go to Diagon Alley.

Lily had only just removed the traces of the burned letter when her son appeared back in the room. “I just sent off the letter,” she lied easily. “Are you ready to leave?”

Harry nodded eagerly and peaked at the list of books required. He sighed at some of the titles, which he had already read, but not tried to cast yet.

They appeared in the Leaky Cauldron ,easily sliding past by Tom undetected, not wanting to get pulled into a conversation by the man that would instantly sell you out for a bit of commotion to increase business.

“I hate to cut this short, but I think that the man I’ve been tailing for weeks is over there,” said James, his eyes leading towards Knockturn Alley. “It won’t take long, but I’ll meet you in Ollivanders.

“Where should we go first?” asked Harry as he watched his father slowly slink towards the man he was hunting.

“Gringotts would be the best place to start,” said Lily, gently nudging Harry so he’d begin walking down the slightly busy street of Diagon Alley. “We need to set you up a small trust vault, seeing as you’re now eleven and you’ll be wanting to buy things while at school, it’s easier to just do it now instead of later on in your years, only gets more complicated the older you are.”

Harry, who was nodding, began to walk at a speed that his legs could hardly keep up with, it was essentially a light jog. He looked up and saw the large snowy-white building known as Gringotts, which he looked at with awe. The building was rather hard to sense and he had been here plenty of times, yet never paid attention to the building.

Standing beside the burnished bronze doors, wearing a neat scarlet and gold outfit was a goblin. The goblin in question held a sword that was tucked behind him.

“Don’t worry,” soothed Lily, noticing her son’s look. “They won’t harm you unless you attempt to steal from them.”

Stepping forward, slowly, Harry made sure that he didn’t look at all threatening to the goblin, which he had read about in various books. The goblin looked to be about a head shorter than him, which said something as he was pretty short. The goblin had a swarthy toned face, he didn’t say anything, but he kept moving his long fingers of the hilt of his sword. The goblin’s beard swayed slightly in the soft breeze.

“Good morning,” said Harry enthusiastically with a tiny bow. He’d be a lair if he said he expected a response, but there was no harm in trying. He, of course, knew that goblins disliked wizards, it was a long line of hatred that led back centuries, but they still agreed to work with wizards, assuming that they kept their noses from their business.

The goblin returned the greeting with an equally polite bow and a slight nod towards the inside of the bank.

Harry took the step one at a time and paused in front of a second door, which was just as menacing, if not more, than the first. Words appeared on the door and he couldn’t help but not smirk. “Enter, stranger –”

“You only have to think them, Harry, not speak them,” said Lily honestly, she turned from her so and began to do the very same.”

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

“Well, that’s interesting,” muttered Harry, making mental note of the message. Of course, stealing from goblins was stupid, in fact it’d be damn near impossible to unless you were a talented and highly knowledgeable.

It didn’t take long to get an account set up and a few Galleons transferred in it, by a few, it meant hundreds. It wasn’t much longer after that little transaction that the two Potters were back out in the open street of Diagon Alley, which appeared to have thinned slightly with the traffic.

“I think we should get your wand now,” suggested Lily softly. “It’s by far the most important and I’m sure you’ll just adore having it tucked away, it brings a feeling of safety and warmth.”

Harry allowed his hand to be clasped by his mother and directed along the alley towards a rickety building, which he instantly assumed was a shabby, rundown building which was most likely deserted.

A rare occurrence, but he was wrong.

Peeling gold letters over the door that read: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty and slightly cracked window. The windows into the building were coating a fine line of dust, making it hard to actually peer in. There was small hand prints in some parts of the dust, which appeared to be years old as new particles of dust began to fill in the spots where hands where left.

Harry scowled at the building and walked in slowly, being highly cautious. He was sure that if Muggles ever saw this, it would be a prime locations for a Muggle horror film.

Inside the shop was tiny, at least when you added all the boxes, some half-open, others closed, of wands that were littered around the shop. A rather tall tower of them wobbled as the two of them walked in and they both held a breath, not wanting to knock the pile over.

Lily decided that she would take the only chair and she gestured her son to step forward.

Harry, however, felt as if he had just stepped into a very ancient and forbidden library. He swallowed down a lot of new questions that he had, which had just occurred to him, and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled.

“Good morning,” called a voice from behind the narrow tower of wobbling wands.

Harry jolted on the spot, he only just managed to stop the impending swear word that was about to pour from his lips. He narrowed his eyes at the man who scared him and didn’t even apologise for it. Of course, he only just noticed that there was a bell above the door and he was far too interested in looking at the wand boxes rather than paying attention.

“Morning,” he replied dumbly and went about looking around once more, avoiding eye contact with the creepy man.

“Well, now – Mr. Potter. Let me see,” said the man, pulling a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

“I’m right-handed,” said Harry weakly. “I assume, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” asked the man, his eyes piercing the boy. “You take me as someone who is ambidextrous.”

“I guess,” said Harry absent-mindedly. “I can brew potions with both hands, but I favour my right.”

‘ _You’re horrid at this_ ,’ said Tom. ‘ _This is the very first surprise I have for you_.’

“Hold out your arm,” said the man calmly, his voice slightly eccentric. He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. “That’s it.”

Harry listened to the man as he explained his wands and how each was unique. Having a voice whisper just near your ear saying that the man lied and multiple wands of the same core, length and wood type have been sold before, some even in the same day.

It was also hard to miss the little tape measurer that decided that it would measure around his thighs and his nostrils. He had to fight back the urge multiple times to not swat the blasted thing enough.

“That will do,” said the man, and at once the tape measure flew over towards the counter and folded itself up nicely on the counter. “Right then, I believe I have a suitable wand for you. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Harry took the wand happily, he couldn’t wait to test it out, and he gave it a little wave and yelped in surprise as it was yanked from his fingers by Mr. Ollivander.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –”

The moment the wand entered Harry’s hand the effect was almost instant, the wand become hot and flew out of his hand.

“Curious,” said Ollivander, studying the wand with a slight smile on his face. “We have ruled out phoenix feathers.”

‘ _Of course_ ,’ muttered Tom softly. ‘ _You and phoenixes will not get along. They will feel threatened by you and retaliate_.’

Harry wondered if he would be able to hear the phoenix’s song or if it’d cause discomfort.

‘ _The answer is yes_ ,’ snapped Tom. ‘ _The phoenix song will give you a headache if you hear it. I suggest avoiding the things completely_.’

Harry tried – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr Ollivander.

“Here,” said Ollivander, presenting another wand. “Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on… try it out.”

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

‘ _This is tedious_ ,’ muttered Tom as Ollivander sifted through another pile. ‘ _He knows what wand is for you, yet avoids it_.’

Harry didn’t say anything, but he fought very hard to not burst out laughing at the sheer amount of irritation that seemed to be in Tom’s voice, even if he did whisper whatever he said.

It was not even ten minutes later when Ollivander appeared in front of the boy with a box which was a shadow black with silver plated swirls on it, it looked perfectly clean, as if it was made just yesterday.

Harry leaned in eagerly, looking at the box with excitement that could be defined as almost lunatic. He watched with eternal attention as Ollivander slowly opened the box, revealing a long, sleek black wand with traces of silver twirled through it. In some light the wand appeared to be a dark green, but that could have just been his eyes playing tricks.

“I only got this recently,” said Ollivander, slowly handing the wand over. “It has such a strong aura of power, that I was wondering how long it’d be in my shop for.”

“You didn’t craft it?” asked Lily, standing from the chair and rushing over to inspect the wand that her son could be having.

Harry held the wand in his hand, embracing the rush of magic that seemed to flow from him. He knew that most people got a few sparks out of their wands when the connection was made and they found the right wand, but his was different. His whole body seemed to radiate a pulse of magic, which was almost smoke that came off him with traces of silver, replicating the wand perfectly.

“I’ve never seen a reaction like that,” said James, just sliding in the door. “When I got mine, I simply shot out a few sparks and that was that.”

“I got a feeling of comfort and warmth with mine, as if I was being lifted by my wand,” explained Lily.

Harry, who was still holding the wand, looked up at Mr. Ollivander and then back down to his wand for a few moments before finally looking back up. “Excuse me, but what are the characteristics of the wand?”

Ollivander took the wand gently and began to study it, as one would study a rare specimen or an endangered species. “The core is the most definitely tail hair of a Thestral, a potent yet tricky substance to master that can only be handled by a witch or wizard who is capable of accepting death, since only by such can it be seen. The length would be about fifteen inches, of course longer wands tend to be drawn to bigger personalities, and those of a more spacious and dramatic style of magic.”

“Dramatic?” asked Harry, curious.

“Oh my yes,” said Mr. Ollivander. “The more showy types of duellers or casting. There’s some that believe that a duel should be as excitable and dramatic as possible.”

“Isn’t that a myth?” chimed in James. “My wand is –”

“Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Made from mahogany, yes,” interrupted Ollivander happily. “It’s a debate that has been settled through the ages, most likely back down to even Merlin’s days.”

“And the wood?” asked Harry, bored with the direction of the conversation. “You haven’t explained that yet.”

‘ _He won’t know_ ,’ chided in Tom, with an almost gleeful sounding tone.

“I didn’t craft this wand,” said Ollivander. “It was recently given to me with instructions that a wizard would come and collect it soon and not to try it unless everything else had refused the wizard.”

“I see.”

“That’ll be thirteen Galleons, please,” said Ollivander happily.

“Right – yes – just a second,” said Lily as she pulled out a total of thirty Galleons. “Here’s some more for Ron Weasley.”

The three Potters soon left the store, aware that the wand maker was smiling at them far too brightly for it to not be creepy.

Lily herded her son from the store, aware that he was obsessing over his wand, and directed him towards Draco Malfoy, who was standing alone with a bored expression on his face.

“Go on, we’ll be around,” she said and watched her son run off.

Harry stopped in front of Draco, slightly panting, with a smile on his face. “I got my wand, Draco,” he said with a huff. “Look at it!” he gently pulled it from his pocket and showed Draco.

“It’s pretty big,” said Draco, grasping the tip of the wand and studying it. “It looks great though, so refined.”

“Of course it does,” said Harry with an expression that said it all. “I cannot wait until I can do some spells. Some real spells!”

“It’s too bad that size doesn’t mean talent,” sneered Draco. “Although, I can see why you got a big wand, to make up for your lack of talent.”

“Prat.”

“Git.”

“Loser!”

“Loner!”

“Blondie!”

“My wand is better,” said Draco, pulling out his own wand. “See, no competition. Yours is almost as good as mine… almost.”

“Whatever you think,” muttered Harry, grinning. “My wand is bigger than yours, in the end, that’s all that really matters.”

“Maybe I’ll just keep your present to myself.”

“You got me a present?” asked Harry as he tucked his wand away. “You didn’t have to!”

“We’re not all rude,” said Draco, lifting his eyebrows.

“My presence is your present.”

“I saw you eyeing my owl and so I thought I’d get you one of your own,” said Draco, lifting cage from the ground. “The only reason that I got this one is that I think it looks nice and the fact that some oaf was trying to buy. I walked in, threw around my name and a bit of Galleons and the guy that was working there cave din and sold me the owl as he distracted the oaf with other things.”

“That’s amazing,” said Harry, discreetly looking at the pure white owl in the cage.

“That’s not it,” continued Draco, a small yet vicious smirk appeared on his face. “The oaf chased me down and tried to tell me that the owl was a late birthday present for the Boy Who Lived, like I care about what Longbottom wants.”

“You took the owl that was meant for the Boy Who Lived?” said Harry, his eyes slightly wide. “That’s so wicked. You deserve a medal for that. You’re amazing.”

“I know I am, thank you.”

“Wait, where’s Narcissa?” asked Harry, glancing around for her. “Don’t tell me you came down here alone?”

“Not at all, I’m not stupid,” said Draco with a flick of his hand. “Father dropped me off so I could get you a present, he should be back here shortly if you want to wait for him?”

“I still have to buy my stuff for Hogwarts, maybe afterwards?”

“Sure,” said Draco with a smile. “I’ll be in the Leaky Cauldron, come find me when you’re done.”

Harry watched Draco give a polite wave and then elegantly walk towards the Leaky Cauldron, ignoring the crowd who seemed to come and fawn over the Boy Who Lived.

He smiled and turned back to his mother whom had just emerged from Flourish and Blotts and was now standing directly behind him, looking at the pure white owl in the cage.

“Look, mother, Draco got me an owl for my birthday,” said Harry, showing his mother the owl. “I haven’t thought of a name yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of one soon. I wonder if Nagini will like her and not try and eat her.”

“Most likely.”

“Apparently Draco got her in the typical Malfoy way, at least from what he said.”

James snorted and shook his head. The owl was beautiful, he had to give Draco credit for finding one that appeared to be calm, yet beautiful.

“We should get her home, I think, I have everything that I needed right?”

“Not so fast, mister,” said James sternly, finally standing right near his son. “I’ll take your pet owl home and get her settled in. You need to go to Madam Malkin’s and get some new robes. I’m sure Madam Malkin will be thrilled to see you. You may even run into Neville there. Be nice if you do. Just because it’s your birthday it doesn’t mean you can be mean to him… like you usually are.”

He took the owl and kissed Harry on the forehead, despite his objections about looking him look weak in public. He did the same for his wife and walked towards the Leaky Cauldron to floo home.

“Come on, Harry,” said Lily and waited for her son to follow. “Harrison James Potter!”

“What?” said Harry confused. “Also don’t call me that, I don’t like it.”

“What were you looking at?”

“Dunno,” said Harry and walked a bit closer to his mother.

“The quicker we can do this, the quicker that we can go home and then you can play with your new wand and pet,” said Lily with a slight sigh. “Oh look, there’s Neville. You can get fitted with him. I’m going to sit with Augusta and save her from the reporters.”

Harry gave a polite nod and walked towards Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. He glanced through the glass window, which was thankfully cleaner than the window at Ollivanders, and looked for Longbottom, who he saw standing near the robe rack. Sighing, he shifted towards the door and yanked it open with more force than what was needed.

He sat in a nearby chair and waited for Madam Malkin to appear and give him the robes that he needed, hopefully without a conversation. He caught Longbottom out of the corner of his eye and watched the boy get stuck on something and nearly trip face first into the floor. He had hoped and prayed that Longbottom wouldn’t be accepted at Hogwarts, but his pleas were not heard and the boy was accepted, with the largest ever interview done between reporters, the Boy Who Lived and the professors of Hogwarts.

“Hiya, Harry,” said Neville cheerfully, only just noticing the quiet black-haired boy sitting in the chair. “Are you getting your Hogwarts supplies?”

“Of course.”

“That’s great,” said Neville. “I came here with Gran and Hagrid. They’re getting my supplies while I get my robes. Hagrid said he was going to get me a pet, he said that he had it lined up for ages!”

Harry held his laugh, even though he wanted to rub it into the boy’s face that he had the pet that the oaf had lined up for ages.

Madam Malkin had only just stepped into the room when she heard the one-sided conversation and decided to act and get it resolved before one of them snapped and caused a scene in her shop. She had learned that one-sided conversations were usually between two people that had a history, and the one remaining silent was usually the one in the wrong.

“I assure you both need robes,” she said, drawing in a breath. “Bless my soul, Neville Longbottom in my store? I must be dreaming.”

Neville let out a laugh and smiled, but said nothing.

“I had always hoped that you’d come here but never did I think – listen to me ramble on. What will you be needing today, dear?”

“I need a set for Hogwarts, first-year, as well as some name tags.”

“Easily done,” said Madam Malkin. “Would you like them signed for you, or will you be signing the tags yourself?”

“I can do it myself, ma’am.”

“Alright,” said Madam Malkin as she moved around the boy, getting his measurements.

Harry sat on the uncomfortable chair with a bored expression, his eyes roaming around the various types of cloth and different assortments of robes available. The range was very small compared to that of different establishments, but this place catered for Hogwarts, which was rare in other stores.

“All done, Mr. Longbottom,” said Madam Malkin silkily. “No need to pay, put away your Galleons. With all you have done, it’s my treat.”

Harry shook his head and sat quietly in the chair, mentally adding another reason on why he held such a high disdain for Neville Longbottom. Any decent wizard would have paid and shrugged it off with a small smile, but not Longbottom, a leach, that’s what he was.

“You spend far too much time with the Weasley family,” sneered Harry the moment Longbottom appeared within earshot range. “Taking things for free? What’s next, you’ll start shopping at Second-Hand Robes for robes and buying all your other stuff at the Junk Shop.”

“That’s such a lie, Harry.”

“Not really,” said Harry shrugging the boy off. “You take advantage of your fame, always have.”

“Also, there’s nothing wrong with the Weasley family.”

“There’s plenty wrong with that family,” sneered Harry. “Wizards shouldn’t be poor, we’re powerful land yet they act like common Muggles.”

“I assume you’re after the first-year Hogwarts pack?” said Madam Malkin, unaware of the argument that just took place.

“For a moment, I was debating just that, but no,” said Harry slowly, he made a humming noise as if thinking of what he wanted. “I would like four first-year robes, four pairs of black slacks, four white polo shirts, four ties and four pairs of black shoes.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” said Harry instantly. “I would also like two complete sets of casual robes as well as some gloves and name tags of course. Not those cheap name tags you usually give people either, they’re trash.”

“I was debating it, but no.” Harry replied. “I would like first year robes and a full wardrobe of casual wear. You know how I usually have them – can you not add silk to the pants this time, it’s annoying.”

“Would you like the robes to be self-ironing?” asked Madam Malkin cheerfully.

“I’m not stupid, of course I would like them to be self-ironing.”

Madam Malkin sighed and wrote it all down. She didn’t hate children, but she hated dealing with Harry Potter, even the Malfoy heir wasn’t as rude as this child was.

“Will that be all?” she asked with a fake smile.

“Yes,” said Harry, standing on the stool and waited for measurements to be taken so he could leave and go home.

“That’ll be forty-two Galleons, Mr. Potter,” said Madam Malkin from behind the boy. “Shall I put it on your father’s tab?” She knew instantly that it would offend the boy, but she did it on purpose.

“I see you’re still overcharging, as usual,” snapped Harry sweeping himself from the stool. “Unlike some, I don’t need anything from my parents.”

Madam Malkin didn’t bother to correct the boy and say that the money that he paid for was from his dad’s vault in Gringotts, nor the fact that the boy was eleven and wouldn’t earn his own money until he was about seventeen or eighteen, depending if he got a job or not. She smiled as the boy practically threw the Galleons on the counter and strode from the store, muttering about her unfair prices.

“I’m sorry about his attitude,” said Neville softly. “He wasn’t always that much of a –”

“Prat,” finished Madam Malkin with a smirk. “You should avoid him, Neville, I have no idea why you try to be friendly with him, but it’ll never work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I meant no offence, of course,” said Madam Malkin instantly. “I never usually talk about customers like this, but that boy just gets to me.”

“No, I meant what you meant about that it’d never work.”

“I feel as if I have overstepped my boundary,” said Madam Malkin honestly. “I take pride in the fact that I was able to remain professional in my workplace and at the moment, I fear as if I have broken that promise.”

“I understand,” said Neville honestly, his eyes flashing with understanding. “If it isn’t too much to ask, could I have those delivered to the manor?”


	7. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

_Old Name_ : All Grown Up

 _New Name_ : Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

 _Rewritten_ : 26/Feb/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

“Don’t make me come in there, Harry, and drag you out myself,” said Lily, knocking in the door to the bathroom loudly. “You have no less than five minutes to get dressed and in the dining room before I blast that door open and drag you out, no matter of your state of dress.”

No response.

“An early lunch has been set out for you. The train leaves at eleven o’clock, on the dot,” continued Lily, still knocking. “That is of course assuming that you don’t sit around in the bathroom until there’s only five minutes to go.”

Harry gave no response, but he had heard and he was essentially already ready, just had to fine-tune his hair. He was trying his hardest to pat it down, to make it look at least like he took care of it and didn’t just roll out of bed and that was it. His hair wasn’t like his father’s, the only similarities they seemed to share was the fact that they both had dark hair, but that didn’t stop the blasted Potter trait of messy hair trying to rear its head.

He rather liked the outfit he had chosen today, it was chosen to make himself look presentable. It was impressive by his standards. He wore white sneakers with black slacks, a light blue undershirt and a purple hooded jumper, which had white strings, which he frantically played with while trying to fix his hair. He sighed and dampened his hair before opening the bathroom door.

“It’s about time you made an appearance,” said James with a slight laugh. “You’re almost as bad as your mum.”

“I heard that!” called Lily from the dining room.

“It’s your fault,” whispered Harry, a scowl on his face. “You gave me this uncooperative hair which just will not do what I want it to and trying – stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

“It is,” said James between bursts of laughter. “It really is.”

Harry, who had just picked up his sandwich, sighed and glanced out the window of the building. “Why can’t I just stay here?” he muttered as he took a bite from his sandwich. “It’s like a thirty minute walk to Hogwarts. I could just walk there and save the issue of dealing with a train ride.”

“Because it’s a tradition, Harry,” said Lily, looking stern. “Trust me, you’ll want to take the train and in five or so years you’ll regret it if you missed the train.”

“Your mum is right, Harry,” added James. “It’s a once in a lifetime experience.”

Harry muttered something incoherent under his breath and finished his sandwich happily. His mother did know how to make a great sandwich, he would never deny her that compliment. He wasn’t sure if he should be as nervous as he was about going to Hogwarts, he was embarrassed to say that he wanted to avoid the train journey from King’s Cross to Hogwarts simply because it may ease the sheer amount of butterflies in his stomach, but he avoided it.

“It’s time to go, Harry. You’ve been staring at the table for close to thirty minutes.

No reply.

“Harry,” repeated Lily. “Harrison!”

“Yes?” replied Harry, a scowl on his face.

“I said that it’s time to go,” repeated Lily. “You’ve been daydreaming and staring at the table. The train to Hogwarts will depart soon.”

“Alright,” said Harry. He stood up and gently tucked the chair into the table and then walked over and stood near his trunk. “I really wish you wouldn’t call me Harrison… I don’t like it.”

Lily couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on her face. Of course she knew that the name irritated her son, it’s why she used it whenever he wouldn’t listen or was in a foul mood. Nine times out of ten, it would put him on track. “I only use it when you don’t listen to me.”

“I always listen to you,” said Harry.

“Don’t you even try and suck up to me,” said Lily sternly. “We really should get going. Get your trunk and make sure you’ve got everything. Even if we are thirty minutes away, it doesn’t mean that I’ll come and bring it to you.”

“Where’s father?”

“He’s going to meet us on the actual platform.”

“He’s not coming with us?” asked Harry, confused.

“As you know, he has special permission to actually apparate directly onto the platform, as the Head Auror. Even if he wasn’t the Head Auror, I’m sure he’d be able to appear directly there, or he would anyway.”

Nothing else was said and Lily held Harry’s arm and led him towards the place that they could apparate from and with a simple twist of her wand, the two vanished with a crack and landed at King’s Cross station a split-second later.

“I like your outfit today, Harry,” said Lily, only just noticing what her son had chosen to wear. “Your father and I had a bet, you see.”

“Oh?”

“We had a simple bet, the bet was whether you’d wear robes or not,” said Lily with a highly triumphant grin. “Your father said that you would wear a robe, and I said that you wouldn’t. It appears as if I was right.”

“What did you win?” asked Harry, enjoying the distraction.

“James has to clean the house,” said Lily, pausing with suspense. “Without the aid of magic. I’ll be buying him a bucket and a scrub brush before I return home.”

Harry let out a laugh, which drew looks from a few people. “Be sure to save the memory of him doing it so I can view it when I come home.”

“I will, don’t you worry,” said Lily cheerfully. “So, are you excited for Hogwarts?”

“I’m excited,” lied Harry. It wasn’t exactly a complete lie, just a half-truth.

The conversation drifted and changed as they walked through King’s Cross station and eventually stood in line to walk through the barrier towards Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

“When do we change into our school robes?” asked Harry.

“On the train, Prefects will walk through the train and inform each compartment that they have thirty minutes to change,” said Lily as she took a small step forwards. “Your father used to change in the actual compartment. Most boys actually do that, whereas girls use the bathroom.”

“Sounds like him to be honest.”

“We’re almost there,” informed Lily, noticing that they were mere steps from going through the wall. “Just run at the wall.”

“I’ve read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_.”

“Of course you have.”

Harry didn’t reply, instead he decided to just walk alongside his mother. He glanced around and saw various wizarding families, which reminded him that he hadn’t seen Narcissa, Lucius or Draco yet, he guessed they took the floo directly onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to avoid speaking or seeing any Muggles along the way. He also didn’t see Longbottom or the Weasleys, so he couldn’t have it all that bad. He had been told, countless times, that the Potter family tended to be highly lucky. Something about an ancestor and a leprechaun, but he knew that no Potter had ever stepped a single foot in Ireland, as they were one of few families that came from England.

“Oh, look Harry,” said Lily, directing her son towards the left just after they had passed through the barrier. “Molly’s over there, which means that Ronald should be around here somewhere.”

“Hope not,” muttered Harry and followed along. “Can’t we just act as if we never even saw them? I mean, they have bright red hair, so it’d be hair to not see them, but you get the point, with their hair it’s kind of hard to miss it.”

“I have red hair, Harry.”

“I know,” said Harry in a soft voice. “It’s such a beautiful, stunning, amazing dark red, unlike theirs, which is so bright it puts the sun to shame.”

“Nice attempt at trying to be charming,” said Lily with a chuckle. “I’ve grown immune to your attempts at complimenting me to get out of things, Harry.”

“Lily, I didn’t see you there!” bellowed Molly. “Taking young Harry to Hogwarts?”

Harry rolled his eyes and just stood there silently, not looking at anyone at all. He wished he had brought a book with him, he could get one out of his trunk but that would be rude.

“He looks nervous,” continued Molly with her typical overbearing motherly acts. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Where’s James?”

And so the explanation of Harry’s father being Head Auror began and he watched as the youngest Weasley, Ginny was her name if he remembered correctly, began to swoon over his father. Thankfully they didn’t gossip for too long and before he even knew it, they had moved towards the train and were staring directly at it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” said James standing behind his son, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “The train that is.”

“I don’t like the scarlet,” said Harry, turning his nose up at the colour of the train. “It’d look better if it was silver.”

“You’ll get used to the colour,” said James hopefully. “After all, you’ll be a great Gryffindor.”

“Not only will you be scrubbing floors,” cut in Lily, a sly smirk on his face. “But you’ll also be cleaning all the walls without magic.”

“Another bet?” asked Harry.

“One that has been going on since you were eight.”

“He’ll be Gryffindor,” said James. “I have this feeling, like a natural instinct and you can always trust that.”

“Your pride isn’t a natural instincts,” replied Lily sternly, her hand son her hips. “Regardless of what house you land in, we’ll always love you.”

Harry swore he heard his father mutter except for Slytherin, but he ignored it and chose to comment on something else. “I better get going, I’ll only have a few moment to find a compartment.”

“Write to us!” said Lily and James in unison.

Harry really didn’t want to spend any more time with his parents, it wasn’t because he was rude or hated them, in fact, and it was the complete opposite. He didn’t want to do something as foolish or childish as crying when waving goodbye. He never really spent any time away from his mother, they were very close and he didn’t know how it would be if he had to spend months upon months away from her, with only letters to speak to her.

He slowly walked on the train, with his trunk being pulled behind him, he wanted to find an empty compartment, or maybe find where Draco was. He walked up and down the train twice and found nothing. He panicked and stepped into the first compartment he saw.

“Hello,” he muttered. “Everywhere else is full, can I join?”

“Sure,” said a bushy-haired girl. “Just be sure to close the door.”

Harry studied the girl closely as he sat down into a seat. The girl had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, a book was held across her chest as if it was the last book in the world and she was already in her school robes, before the train had even left.

“My name is Hermione Granger,” said Hermione. “And yours?”

“Harry Potter,” said Harry, debating whether to stick out his hand or give her the typical pure-blood greeting. He went through his mind to learn about any with the last name Granger and only one came up, which was extinct. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Granger.”

Hermione blushed and decided to push the focus from her and onto someone else. “This is Terry Boot.”

“We already know each other,” said Terry. “We met about two years ago at the annual Malfoy Ball. Speaking of which, I’m surprised you’re not actually with Malfoy.”

“As with what Terry has said, Harry and I already know each other,” said the other boy.

Harry turned his head at the familiar voice and opened his eyes. “Rosier.”

“Potter,” sneered Rosier.

“How the mighty have fallen,” scoffed Harry. “What happened to Beauxbatons?”

“The Rosier name was tarnished by my father and his father,” said Rosier quietly. “Beauxbatons didn’t want me.”

“Did you all meet at this Malfoy Ball?” asked Hermione, finally sitting down.

“They denied you?” said Harry, shocked.

“No you prat, I’m just here for fun,” sneered Rosier. “Mum didn’t want me so far away though, plus she said that Hogwarts was the best.”

“Most pure-bloods meet at Malfoy Balls, Granger,” said Terry, finally taking pity on the boy. “Our little Harry here goes to each of them as he’s pretty much family to the Malfoys. Damien here turned up to one with his mum a few years back and managed to swindle his way in.”

“Don’t call me that,” snapped Rosier. “It’s such a common name.”

“At least you’re not called Terry,” chided Harry. “That’d be the day I got a name change.”

“Shove off, Potter.”

“So you’re all pure-bloods?” asked Hermione curiously.

“I’m a pure-blood,” said Terry uneasily. “A lot will debate it however.”

“Your mum is Russian,” said Rosier. “You’re a half-blood, no matter what you say.”

“From an entirely magical background,” said Terry.

“Whatever. I’m a pure-blood,” said Rosier, grinning. “Our little Harry here is a half-blood, but he calls himself a first-generation pure-blood.”

“Shut up, Rosy, you git.”

“Don’t call me Rosy, Potter!”

“Prat,” sneered Harry. “You’re just annoyed that Narcissa gave me the best host award and you got nothing.”

“That was years ago!”

“Calm down, Rosy.”

“Are they always like this?” asked Hermione.

“Harry and Draco are worse,” replied Terry. “Give them a few minutes and they’ll run out of insults and just glare at each other.”

“I’m Muggleborn,” said Hermione once the two stopped bickering. “Of course I had no idea magic even existed! My mum and dad were surprised, although they just couldn’t explain the fact I did accidental magic at all. After all, being accepted into the best wizarding school in the entire world is a bit of achievement, isn’t it?”

“No,” scoffed Harry. “Hogwarts is far from the best school in the world. It’s the best school in Britain, but not the world, not by a long shot. I personally wanted to go to Durmstrang Institute, but mother was against it and let’s not mention the fact that father had a snit over the fact I wanted to go there.”

“And you’d miss Draco,” sniped in Rosier.

“He’d miss me, not the other way around,” lied Harry, but they didn’t need to know that.

“I have never heard of Durmstrang Institute,” muttered Hermione to herself.

“They teach the Dark Arts and a lot of other questionable branches of magic,” said Terry to Hermione. “They’re really open about it and they take vows of secrecy and stuff.”

“I’ve read all about the Dark Arts,” said Hermione, lifting her nose. “Teaching it should be illegal –”

“Please don’t,” said Rosier, cutting her off. “You’ll just set off Harry and he won’t stop talking about it until we’re at Hogwarts.”

“I agree,” said Terry from the side.

“Is James Potter your father?” asked Hermione, finally putting the last names together.

“No, he’s my brother.”

“No need to be so sarcastic, Harry,” said Rosier. “She just wants to know who your dad is.”

“Yes, James Potter is my father, no, I cannot get you an autograph.”

“It’s a soft spot for him,” said Rosier, grinning. “He’s essentially walking in his father’s shadow, even more-so at Hogwarts.”

The conversation moved onto other things, much to Harry’s pleasure that it was away from his father and his accomplishments. Her tuned out the conversation and heard a few snippets, mainly of Granger scolding Terry as if he were a child and she was a parent. He frowned as he caught sight of the slightly chubby Neville Longbottom lurking near the door.

“Hello,” said Neville, stepping inside. “Have you seen a toad anywhere?”

“No,” replied Terry. “I’ll let you know if I come across one.”

“I’m sure if the toad has more brains than you, which would be simple, it would have jumped out the window at the pond just back there,” sneered Harry. “It’d be safer back there than with you.”

“I didn’t think you’d be here, Harry,” said Neville. “I could have sworn you’d be with Malfoy and the rest of them.”

“Rest of them?” asked Hermione softly.

“Here we go,” muttered Rosier and leant back in the chair.

“Rest of them?” repeated Harry. “Please Longbottom, I am fluent in three languages, but I cannot understand idiot, please translate.”

“Junior Death Eaters,” chimed in Weasley. “You know the sort, your friends.”

“Shouldn’t be digging around on the floor for Galleons, Weasley?” said Harry in an icy tone. “Must have cost your family half their savings to afford to send you here.”

Ron went bright red and muttered something under his breath. “I’d rather be poor than associate with Junior Death Eaters.”

Hermione looked shocked for all but one second. “You mean Who-Know-Who’s followers? That’s –”

“Oh no, Weasley has cracked the case and found us out,” said Harry sarcastically. “We were all just comparing our Dark Marks and planning to slaughter Muggles. Get your head out of Longbottom’s behind, Weasley, you disgrace.”

“– absurd,” finished Hermione. “We’re eleven!”

“No, Granger, you see, Weasley is correct, his pitiful excuse for a family has no money, so they became wannabe detectives.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“Couldn’t even afford his own wand, had to beg my mother for one so he didn’t have to use his father’s old wand,” sneered Harry, letting out a cold laugh. “Shove off, Weasley, no one cares about your existence, go jump off the train, I’m sure most will celebrate.”

Neville sighed. “If you see my toad, please come find me.”

“Saviour of the wizarding world cannot even find a lost toad,” scoffed Harry. “What are you, a Muggle? Summon it.”

Neville scowled and then he caught sight of Rosier and stiffened. “I didn’t think you were coming here.”

“No need to be so hostile, hero,” said Harry. “Rosier means you no harm.”

“I’m not sure, Harry,” said Rosier. “He does have a right to be angry with what my father did.”

“Longbottom’s father got what was coming to him,” said Harry coldly.

Not many had ever seen Neville Longbottom as angry as he was at that moment. His wand came out of his robes at lightning speed, the skill of a slightly trainer dueller. “Say that again, Potter.”

“I said,” said Harry slowly. “Your father got what was coming to him, Longbottom. Now put your wand away, you know deep down that I’m better at magic than you, you’re a failure.”

“That was a bit far, Harry,” said Rosier as he watched Longbottom storm away. “You know that I don’t share the same ideals as my father. He was a cruel man.”

Hermione was about to say something when she noticed the look from Terry Boot. She really wanted to ask what all that was about and why it got the Boy Who Lived so worked up. She hated not knowing something, and she had the feeling that each of them would be in separate Houses.

The four of them continued on with a discussion once the tense atmosphere in the compartment vanished.

Harry’s gaze landed on an elderly lady gently pushing along a trolley which seemed to be lined with sweets. Harry saw Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans sitting on the top and that sold his mind. “Would any of you like anything?” he said as he leaned towards the sliding door of the compartment.

“I don’t have any money,” said Hermione. “I spent all of mine on books.”

“Neither do I,” replied Terry shortly afterwards. “Mum said that I should cut down on the sweets, else I’ll get fat – don’t laugh, Rosier!”

“Ministry took all of our money,” said Rosier, halting his laughter. “We only have enough for the necessities.”

Harry just rolled his eyes and jumped from his seat, he stepped out of the compartment and nudged a few second-year Hufflepuffs out of the way and appeared just before the elderly lady pushing the cart with a smile on his face. He quickly got what he wanted and dumped them on the table that formed in the middle of the compartment, almost taking out Rosier as it did so.

“Help yourself,” he muttered and began to peel open a Chocolate Frog packet. He swiped the leaping frog mid-air and glanced at the card that he got.

“Who’d you get?” asked Terry as he picked up a small packet of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans and began to spear his hand into the packet.

“Salazar Slytherin,” said Harry happily. “I got about three of him at home. Thank Merlin it isn’t Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar at least has a sense of humour, Helga is so dull.”

Salazar, the card, let out a silent laugh and then vanished from the portrait in his card.

Hermione, who still hadn’t taken anything, just glanced at the black-haired boy with a slightly sceptical smile, one that seemed to merge with shyness. “I hate to be rude,” she started, unsure of how she should word what she wanted to say. “But you look like a person that doesn’t do things for other people very often.”

“Not true,” muttered Harry. “I do plenty of things for people, just not for free.”

“So, I assume you would want something back for this?” said Hermione, her facial expression still the same, but a certain trace of eagerness appeared in it.

“Of course, that seems just about right,” said Harry, gently nudging aside a few packets that had been moved onto his side of the table. He sent Rosier a quick glare and focused back on Granger. “I’m not going to hunt you down or place a bounty on your head. I simply see it as a favour for a favour. I can tell you want to test out magical treats, here’s your chance.”

He smiled sweetly at Granger when she reached for something and tested it out. He watched as the girl tested out one of each treat before shifting onto Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, which she had studied with an intent gaze, as if trying to figure out what one she got. He watched in amusement when she avoided Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans like they were the cause the entire world’s problems when she got what appeared to be a pepper flavoured one. If he remembered anything at all from what his father had said, it was to avoid the white ones with a slightly off-grey colouring and of course the green ones.

* * *

Harry walked through the corridors of the train as it pulled up at the Hogsmeade station, weaving around people. He had shooed Granger out ten minutes before the train arrived and promptly began undressing in the compartment, which he realized Rosier and Boot began to do the same. He snorted in amusement and went to find Draco, who was nowhere to be found.

“Potter,” huffed Rosier. “Stop walking so fast, you’ll find him.”

“I know I will as they’re just over there,” said Harry, steering Rosier with his hand towards the blond-haired boy, or better known as, Draco Malfoy. “Draco!”

“Harry,” said Draco with a smirk. “You were sitting with Rosier? Branching out I see.”

“Rosier was sitting with me.”

“I’m sorry?” said Rosier with a slight scowl. “I’m pretty sure it was you who came to me.”

“Irrelevant,” said Harry. “I missed you Draco –”

“I missed you to, Harry.”

“Shut up, prat, I meant on the train.”

“Ah,” said Draco with a small shrug. “I’m amazed you even managed to dress yourself without me being there.”

Harry shook his head and walked from the train with the rest of the first-years, he stuck to the group that was around Draco and avoided the Bow Who Lived, when he saw the boy he simply sneered at him and continued on his journey. He glanced up at the sky, which was slowly falling into dusk, the small part of the sun that remain was hidden by large trees. The only thing letting the students know that it was still day was that a steady glow of orange was trying to fight its way through the upcoming blackness. They looked around with a smile and then walked towards the other students, shoving them out of the way.

“Firs’-years, Firs’-years over here,” called a loud, booming voice. “All right there, Neville?”

“They sent the oaf to collect us?” said Draco. “That makes me feel so welcomed.”

Harry snorted and listened to the oaf speak to Longbottom, as if he were the only person there.

“C’mon, follow me – any more firs’-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’-years follow me!” called the voice once more, startling more than half of the first-year students who were slowly walking towards the man, traces of fear on their faces.

Harry followed the small group of first-years behind the giant oaf. He walked with Draco, a girl called pansy, who he had never met before, Theodore Nott, who refused to answer you if you called him Theodore and of course Rosier. His plain black robes were getting blown about by the common chilly wind. He realized that most of the other first-years were slipping and stumbling as they walked. They all followed the large man through a slightly narrow path, which appeared to be surrounded by various trees and small buildings.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” the large man called over his shoulder. “Jus’ round this bend here.”

Students gasped and looked at the castle with awe. Harry had already seen it so he wasn’t very excited, but everyone else was. The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more’n four to a boat!” the large man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.

“There’s five of us,” said Pansy, looking between each boy standing in a small group. “I am not riding with Crabbe and Goyle.”

“Harry’s scrawny, so he only counts as half a person.”

“Shove off, Draco,” said Harry with a scowl. “Are we really going to listen to that oaf? He weighs about ten of us. We can all fit in the boat, it can seat three people on each seat.”

“Right,” said Draco. “Harry will be in the middle, as it was his idea.”

“I don’t think so!”

And that was how Harry found himself, cramped between Draco and Rosier, the latter taking pride in squishing him as much as possible. It didn’t help that Draco would prod the side of his ribs with his finger and cause him to jolt into the side of Rosier, who had bony elbows.

“Stop it,” he hissed and glared at both of them before sighing and looking straight ahead.

The small second of weakness he just showed was enough for it to evolve from two people to four. He sneered at all four of them, twisting his head to sneer at the two sitting behind him.

“Everyone in?” the large man shouted, who had a boat to himself. “Right then – FORWARD!”

“Poke me again and I’ll throw you into the lake,” said Harry as the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

“Heads down!” the large man yelled abruptly as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.

“That was a waste of time,” said Draco in a bored tone, his eyes glancing around the small building that was off to the side.

“Oy, Neville! Is this your toad?” the large man shouted, startling plenty of kids, while he was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

“Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

Harry sneered at the boy and followed the group of first-years as they all clambered up a passageway in the rock after the oaf, who was holding out a lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

“Everyone here? Still got yer toad, Neville?”

“Yes, Hagrid,” replied Neville, holding his toad close to him.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. “The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” he said in a booming yet happy tone of voice

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” said Professor McGonagall and turned her gaze towards the children. She pulled the door open wide. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall sternly. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your House dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.”

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin,” she continue din the same tone of voice that she used before. “Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting,” said Professor McGonagall. Her eyes lingered on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose. “I shall return when we are ready for you,” she said with slightly pursed lips. “Please wait quietly.”

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” asked a boy as soon as the professor left the chamber.

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking,” replied Ron. “I think we fight a troll.”

“A troll, Weasley?” snorted Harry, who was leaning against the stone wall. “I’d suggest that you’d be in Hufflepuff, but that would be insulting Helga, as she actually had a brain, unlike you.”

A few snickers filled the chamber.

“Of course, I don’t doubt for a minute that you believed that they asked eleven year old children to fight a troll,” continued Harry in a bored tone of voice. “Let’s just ignore the fact that most fully grown adults struggle against them because of their high immunity to magic. Use your brain, Weasley.”

Ron was about to retort when something happened which made him jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him screamed. He turned and saw about twenty ghosts, which had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing amongst themselves.

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?”

No one even dared to answer.

“New students!” said the Fat Friar happily, smiling widely. “About to be sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”

“Not likely,” muttered Draco and Harry.

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice, cutting through the idle chatter easily, startling the students. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” she demanded. “And then you can follow me.”

Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from belittling the lady for telling him what to do. He followed Draco as he walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. He heard the girl who sat with him on the train mutter to another girl about the roof and reading about it in _Hogwarts: A History_. He watched as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. He looked at the hat with utter disgust, it looked old, older than the castle and he actually expected it to fall apart, instead it did the opposite. When the gasping of the students stopped the hat seemed to come alive, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

_Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,_

_But don’t judge on what you see,_

_I’ll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There’s nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can’t see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you’ve a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You’ll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don’t be afraid!_

_And don’t get in a flap!_

_You’re in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I’m a Thinking Cap!_

The whole Hall burst into applause as the Sorting Hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Harry sighed with relief when it finally shut up, he was hungry and getting annoyed, the Sorting Hat took up valuable time explaining things he already knew, he wondered why he was never told about this part though.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment in her hand, she peered down at it and shifted slightly. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the Sorting Hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her. He sneered and turned back to the front.

“Bones, Susan!” called Professor McGonagall.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat once more, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!” called Professor McGonagall.

Harry already knew where this boy was going, he knew it from the moment he spoke to the boy for the first time.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat. The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

“Brocklehurst, Mandy!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Brown, Lavender!” called Professor McGonagall.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

“Bulstrode, Millicent!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Corner, Michael!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Cornfoot, Stephen!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Crabbe, Vincent!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Davis, Tracey!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Entwhistle, Kevin!” called Professor McGonagall.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!” called Professor McGonagall.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

“Finnigan, Seamus!” called Professor McGonagall.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat after a minute of it sitting on the sandy-haired boy’s head.

“Goldstein, Anthony!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Goyle, Gregory!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Granger, Hermione!” called Professor McGonagall.

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

Harry wondered if she would go to Ravenclaw like Terry Boot. He watched her carefully.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat, although it didn’t seem pleased about the choice.

“Greengrass, Daphne!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Hopkins, Wayne!” called Professor McGonagall.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

“Jones, Megan!” called Professor McGonagall.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

“Li, Sue!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Longbottom, Neville!” called Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Harry realized that a lot of whispers broke out over the Great Hall, from every table. He also noticed that everyone craned their heads, even the staff to look at the boy who was turning a slight shade of pink from all the attention. Deep down, he hoped that Neville would go into Hufflepuff with the rest of the useless wizards.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat almost instantly.

The applause from the Gryffindor table was deafening.

“MacDougal, Isobel!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“MacDougal, Morag!” called Professor McGonagall.

Harry knew her from the few times he had been to the Ministry and met her father. Her and her twin sister were rather well off and already pretty influential in the Ministry.

“Macmillan, Ernest!” called Professor McGonagall.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat, placing the twin sisters into Ravenclaw.

“Malfoy, Draco!” called Professor McGonagall.

Draco swaggered up towards the seat and sat down, waiting.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat the moment it touched the boy’s head.

“Malone, Roger!” called Professor McGonagall.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

“Moon, Lily!” called Professor McGonagall.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

“Nott, Theodore!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Parkinson, Pansy!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Patil, Padma!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Patil, Parvati!” called Professor McGonagall.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

“Perks, Sally-Anne!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Potter, Harry!” called Professor McGonagall.

This got looks from a majority of the Great Hall. The Potter name wasn’t exactly unknown, with his father being offered the position of Chaser in every Major League Quidditch team in the world, and of course his position as the youngest ever Head Auror. A lot of the people in Slytherin have seen him lurking around Malfoy Manor over the years, so he’s not exactly an outcast, but people are still wary over him due to his father.

He walked slowly towards the stool and sat down on it, allowing Professor McGonagall to place the hat on his head.

“It has been a long time since a natural Occlumens sat on this very stool,” said the hat softly. “The only other natural Occlumens I have sorted is of course Salazar Slytherin.”

“You sorted Salazar?” asked Harry in an equally soft voice. “That makes no sense as you were created by him.”

“I had to be tested,” said the hat in reply. “Obviously.”

“The sarcastic trait has to be from Salazar.”

“Rowena, actually,” said the hat with what sounded like a snicker. “She was quite sarcastic when she wanted to be. Godric and Salazar both ended up being tormented to it more than once.”

“Really?” asked Harry, leaning forwards in anticipation.

“Of course, she was the brightest witch of her age, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t all nice and lovey.”

“Like Helga?”

“Poor Helga has been tarnished by a rumour,” the hat said sadly. “When you think of Hufflepuff, what do you think they represent.”

“Nothing,” said Harry instantly. “Hufflepuffs are useless.”

“Rowena and Salazar would love you,” said the hat. “But it’s wrong. Helga was more than hugs and friendship, and she was far from the discarded house, as it’s called these days. Helga was dedicated and such a caring witch that many adored her because she adored them. Many people followed what she said simply because she was so kind and always attempted to lead them with her heart.”

“Okay?”

“Hush,” said the hat in a snappish tone. “You see, Helga was great at finding things. She found the base for Hogwarts, she found everything that was needed for the school. Better yet, she found the other founders and set the school up in its early stages. Oh my yes, Salazar was always losing things, although we assume that was because Godric took them. Helga made her house to be the ones to look after the other houses. She was to mother of the group, and prided herself on that. Her last words were simply that her house would always look after the other houses, to keep them in line.”

“So,” said Harry slowly. “She was the mother of the group, not just a straggler who followed along for the thrills?”

“A straggler?” said the hat, sounding slightly annoyed. “She founded the group, Mr. Potter. It’s debated that it was Salazar who founded the school, alongside his old friend, Godric, but it’s false. It was Helga, wanting to help as much people as she could in the harsh times.”

“I see.”

“The issue remains where to place you,” said the hat, a humming noise followed. “Gryffindor is certainly out of the question, you would exploit their inner bravery and make them do things they would regret. You would simply make poor Godric radiate anger from beyond the grave. Although, there’s more to Gryffindor than just jumping in front of spells, I fear you’re listening to rumours more than facts.”

“History has been changed over the years,” replied Harry softly. “I’m simply by going on what I know. Gryffindors appear to be self-righteous. I pretty much grew up with two of them, one which was Gryffindor to the every bone and then an entire family of Gryffindors. They all act the same.”

“Gryffindor would let you prove yourself,” said the hat. “Not that I would even dare place you there for reasons I said before. You would do great in Gryffindor, but the others would suffer.”

“There’s plenty of ways for me to prove myself than to do something without thought, if I dive into a situation without thinking then I’ll be killed,” explained Harry. “That’s why I don’t belong in Gryffindor.”

“Hufflepuff is out of the question,” said the hat, more to itself rather than Harry. “I cannot say you’d do well in Ravenclaw either. Yes, you have a thirst for knowledge, but you’re far from wise.”

“Excuse me?” said Harry with a look of aghast.

“Creativity, originality, individuality, acceptance, intelligence, wit and wisdom,” said the hat. “The traits of the Ravenclaw house, all traits you lack in some sense. You have the intelligence to succeed in the house, but lack wisdom and acceptance.”

“So that leaves one house, and what happens if I’m not good for that? Do I hop back on that train and finally get the chance to go to Durmstrang Institute?”

“You won’t be going anywhere, Harrison Potter.”

Harry muttered something under his breath about burning the hat once it was off his head. He was certain that he heard the hat actually laugh about that comment.

“Godric, Rowena, Helga and Salazar, mainly Salazar, would adore you, Mr. Potter,” said the hat. “You have a trait from each house. You’re loyal, to only those you care about, and you’d chase something to the end of the earth to succeed. You have a sense of bravery, but you’re not foolish about it. You’re highly intelligent, but lack the wisdom to use it correctly. That leaves Slytherin, which you have every single trait from with more to be left over. You’re the most ambitious person I have ever met, Mr. Potter, and I cannot wait to see what you do with it.”

Harry smiled.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Told you he’d be a snake!” shouted Ron, breaking the silence. He was promptly hushed by Professor McGonagall.

“Mr. Potter,” called the hat, shocking the Great Hall. “Do Salazar proud, child, I’m sure he would be would love to meet you. Hunt down his portrait.”

Harry gave a slight nod towards the hat and continued towards the Slytherin table, directing himself to the seat next to Draco Malfoy.

“Rivers, Oliver!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Roper, Sophie!” called Professor McGonagall.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

“Rosier, Damien!” called Professor McGonagall.

“See you in Slytherin, Rosy,” called Harry as he sat down.

“Shut up, you git,” sneered Rosier and walked towards the stool with elegance, aware that the headmaster’s eyes were on him.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Smith, Sally!” called Professor McGonagall.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Thomas, Dean!” called Professor McGonagall.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

“Turpin, Lisa!” called Professor McGonagall.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat.

“Weasley, Ronald!” called Professor McGonagall.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

“Zabini, Blaise!” called Professor McGonagall.

“Five Galleons he comes to Slytherin,” whispered Harry to Rosier.

“You’re on.”

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat.

“Prat,” whispered Rosier.

Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands, the chatter died down and all eyes were on him. “Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

Harry snorted into his goblet and looked at the girl who had just sat next to him. “I cannot believe our headmaster is messed up in the head.”

The girl flashed her badge that was green and silver and had a ‘P’ on it and smiled. “Be careful who you say that around. Most assume he’s mad, but it’s wrong, he’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. I have to speak to you, eat quickly then come with me.”

“Alright,” replied Harry, putting down his fork.

“I’m Gemma Farley by the way. I’m a Prefect for Slytherin, you’ll meet the other Prefect soon, he’s spending most of his time gloating to his fellow fifth years, and unlike him I’ll actually help you.”

Harry followed the girl with a slightly uneasy smile. It didn’t take a genius to realize that everyone was watching the first-year being escorted from the Great Hall by a Prefect.

“I have no doubt that people will begin to whisper, just ignore them, they like to see us punished.”

Harry nodded and followed her out of the Great Hall. He noticed that a few people stared and began to whisper about him being escorted out by a Prefect. He had no idea what was going on, but he gave a strong smile regardless, not letting any of them think anything less of him, it’s what Lucius taught him. Of course the main culprits as his eyes glanced around were the Weasley family and the Gryffindors who seemed to be really happy that a Slytherin was being escorted out of the Great Hall.

“This may sound weird,” started Gemma, stopping just outside the Great Hall doors. “But because of your father and what he does, you may be a prime target in the Slytherin house. We do look out for our own, and that’s why I’m telling you this now. You’ll need to watch your back, especially around the older students. I know you received teaching from Narcissa and Lucius, which besides Draco puts you at an advantage. The Malfoy and Black family lines have always been in Slytherin, except Sirius Black, but let’s not talk about him, so they have some sway. I’m not going to lie, a lot of You-Know-Who’s followers were in Slytherin and their sons and daughters landed here, you need to watch yourself in the Slytherin common room.”

“Miss. Farley, do explain what you’re doing out here with Mr. Potter?” said Professor McGonagall, sending both of them curious glances.

“I apologize, professor,” said Gemma. “I was simply informing Harry here that because of his father’s position in the Ministry, he could be targeted from various group of students and that he should watch his back.”

“Right,” said Professor McGonagall with slightly narrowed eyes. “The feast is almost over, you two better return to your tables.”

Harry snorted and followed Gemma back into the Great Hall.

“As you just saw,” said Gemma, wrapping her arm around Harry. “A lot of the professors don’t trust us. The first lesson you’ll as a Slytherin is always to back up a fellow Slytherin.”

Harry heard some whistling and catcalling towards him and Gemma, he chuckled and shook his head before sitting next to Draco and promising to explain it to him later.

At last, the puddings disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent. “Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

“I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

“That’s cheerful,” muttered Harry. “Surely that’s a joke, just like when he raved on about Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment and Tweaks.”

“He’s serious,” said Gemma, looking slightly pale. “The only thing that’s odd is that he didn’t inform the Prefects about it. He usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere – the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!’ cried Dumbledore. He gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words. “Everyone pick their favourite tune,” he said, “and off we go!”

And the school, except the Slytherins, bellowed:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they’re bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we’ve forgot,_

_Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot_.

“That was awful,” muttered Harry, his head collapsed into his hands. “What kind of school song is that?”

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Gemma quickly lead the little group of first-years out of the Great Hall and was paused abruptly by Percy Weasley, who was blocking the way.

“Merlin, Weasley, stop looking for Galleons and move,” snapped Harry. “Rummage around on the floor elsewhere.”

“Potter, I happen to be a Prefect,” said Percy, standing straighter. “It would be wise if you showed me some respect.”

“With your family history, you deserve no respect.”

“Just ignore him, Percy,” said Neville, glaring. “He’s only doing it to annoy you.”

Harry glanced above Weasley and saw a bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them and as Percy took a step towards them they started throwing themselves at him.

“Peeves,” Percy whispered to the Gryffindor first-years, the Slytherins heard just fine. “A poltergeist.” He raised his voice, “Peeves – show yourself.”

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

“Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”

There was a pop and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. “Oooh!” he said, with an evil cackle. “Ickle firsties! What fun this’ll be!”

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this, I mean it!” barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville’s head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour as he passed.

“You want to watch out for Peeves,” said Percy, as they set off again. “The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to us Prefects –”

The rest of the conversation was cut off as the Slytherin first-years were lead down towards the dungeons.

“Keep up,” said Gemma over her should, enjoying that for each one of her steps, the first-years had to take two, some three. “It’s not very far away now. You can remember the way to the common room by the small snake markings in the walls, which point towards the blank wall where the entrance is.”

Harry had seen them before, when they first entered the dungeons, they were slithering about and hissing about the new students.

“Of course the engravings can only be seen by those who are wearing the Slytherin crest,” said Gemma. “A bit of magic done by Salazar Slytherin to further protect his house.”

A few first-years fawned over the snake engravings.

“As you can see, this is the entrance to the Slytherin Common room, the engraving of the snake will only permit those with the Slytherins crest inside. An alert will ring in the common room if someone is lurking for five minutes. There’s a book in the common room that you can read, it’ll explain it better.”

“This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room,” muttered Gemma and looked directly at the engraved snake, showing her Slytherin crest. “Aconite.”

The piece of wall crumbled into nothing and allowed the first-years to enter with ease. Harry couldn’t get a decent look inside as Gemma was blocking the view into the room.

“The password, which at the start of each term will always be a potions ingredient, if you can guess what the next one will be, tell Professor Snape and you’ll be granted a one on one lesson in duelling or some help with potions, changes each two weeks. Don’t give this out to anyone. This area is covered by a Muffling Ward, so no one can overheard what’s said in this area.” Gemma paused and gave a bright, wide smile towards the fire-years. “I apologize, but now I’m going into a scripted speech.”

The group of first-years let out a chuckle.

“Congratulations! In case you’re unaware, I’m Prefect Gemma Farley, and I’m delighted to welcome you to Slytherin House. Our emblem is the serpent, the wisest of creatures; our house colours are emerald green and silver. As you can see, its windows look out into the depths of the Hogwarts Lake. We often see the giant squid swooshing by and sometimes more interesting creatures. We like to feel that our hangout has the aura of a mysterious, underwater shipwreck.”

“Now, there are a few things you should know about Slytherin and a few you should forget. Firstly, let’s dispel a few myths. You might have heard rumours about Slytherin house… that we’re all into the Dark Arts, and will only talk to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard and rubbish like that. Well, you don’t want to believe everything you hear from competing houses. I’m not denying that we’ve produced our share of Dark wizards, but so have the other three houses… they just don’t like admitting it. And yes, we have traditionally tended to take students who come from long lines of witches and wizards. Here’s a little-known fact that the other three houses don’t bring up much: Merlin was a Slytherin. Yes, Merlin himself, the most famous wizard in history! He learned all he knew in this very house! Do you want to follow in the footsteps of Merlin? Or would you rather sit at the old desk of that illustrious ex-Hufflepuff, Eglantine Puffett, inventor of the Self-Soaping Dishcloth? I didn’t think so.”

“But that’s enough about what we’re not. Let’s talk about what we are, which is the coolest and edgiest house in this school. We play to win, because we care about the honour and traditions of Slytherin. We also get respect from our fellow students. Yes, some of that respect might be tinged with fear, because of our Dark reputation, but you know what? It can be fun, having a reputation for walking on the wild side. Chuck out a few hints that you’ve got access to a whole library of curses, and see whether anyone feels like nicking your pencil case.”

“But we’re not bad people. We’re like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful, and frequently misunderstood. For instance, we Slytherins look after our own, which is more than you can say for Ravenclaw. Apart from being the biggest bunch of swots you ever met, Ravenclaws are famous for clambering over each other to get good marks, whereas we Slytherins are brothers and sisters. The corridors of Hogwarts can throw up surprises for the unwary, and you’ll be glad you’ve got the Serpents on your side as you move around the school. As far as we’re concerned, once you’ve become a snake, you’re one of ours… one of the elite. Because you know what Salazar Slytherin looked for in his chosen students? The seeds of greatness, you’ve been chosen by this house because you’ve got the potential to be great, in the true sense of the word. All right, you might see a couple of people hanging around the common room who you might not think are destined for anything special. Well, keep that to yourself. If the Sorting Hat put them in here, there’s something great about them, and don’t you forget it. And talking of people who aren’t destined for greatness, I haven’t mentioned the Gryffindors. Now, a lot of people say that Slytherins and Gryffindors represent two sides of the same coin. Personally, I think Gryffindors are nothing more than wannabe Slytherins. Mind you, some people say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor prized the same kinds of students, so perhaps we are more similar than we like to think. But that doesn’t mean that we cosy up with Gryffindors. They like beating us only slightly less than we like beating them.”

“A few more things you might need to know: our house ghost is the Bloody Baron. If you get on the right side of him he’ll sometimes agree to frighten people for you. Just don’t ask him how he got bloodstained; he doesn’t like it. The password to the common room changes every fortnight as I said before. Keep an eye on the noticeboard. Never bring anyone from another house into our common room or tell them our password. No outsider has entered it for more than seven centuries. Well, I think that’s all for now. I’m sure you’ll like our dormitories. We sleep in ancient four-posters with green silk hangings, and bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. Medieval tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins cover the walls, and silver lanterns hang from the ceilings. You’ll sleep well; it’s very soothing, listening to the lake water lapping against the windows at night.”

Harry gave a clap when Gemma finished, as did the other first years. He moved close and smiled. “How did you memorize all that?”

Gemma winked and nudged him away playfully. “Our Head of House will brief you shortly; you’ll find the password over there,” pointed Gemma towards the left side of the common room. “Your dormitories are up the stairs and the first door on the left, the bed you select will be the bed you use for the entire year, no swapping, so choose wisely and finally your timetables are already in your trunk, for the better part all but a few of your lessons are shared with other houses, the Head of House will explain this soon, I suggest you relax and talk amongst yourselves.”

Harry followed the group of first-year boys that were to be his dormitory mates for the next year. The room was much more than what Harry expected and Gemma’s explanation didn’t do the room any justice. The room, unlike most of Hogwarts, was almost perfectly square with small cuts in each of the walls that allowed entry into small rooms, which contains four-poster beds, lines with green and silver bed hangings and a deep green quilt over the top. Each little room had two beds in it and a desk placed between the beds, with two small stools sitting tucked under it neatly. Each piece of the wall had a name on it, showing who slept where, which proved what Gemma said wrong, perhaps the girls’ rooms were different. Just at the ends of the beds was a moderate height wardrobe that clothes could be stored, and a wooden shoe rack.

It wasn’t cramped, in fact it was pretty open and there was a matching pair of green sofas that were placed in the fireplace, a small table sat in the front of the chairs, which held a few quills and inkpots. The floor, which most would have expected to be hardstone, was covered in plush carpeting that would have massaged your bare feet when you walked over it.

“Welcome to Slytherin, boys,” said a silky voice from just behind the group of first-year boys. “I’m sure you have already noticed that this isn’t what you’re expecting. While Slytherin may not have the comfort that Hufflepuffs tend to have in their common room, we’re note heartless and we give out first-years a place of their own for the entire year. You’ll find that each house has different common rooms and dormitory rooms. Salazar took pride in making sure his house was well cared for and left a note the future Head of House and told them that this is priority.”

“Ever since, different Head of Houses have changed the common room and the dungeons in different ways. I cannot take credit for all of this, but I do aim to maintain traditions. AS you go up in years, you’ll find your rooms will be less cosy, and instead become more of a mature setting for a room. You’ll never sleep alone, you’ll always have a roommate, and this is simply so that if anything happens that way someone is always on hand.”

“No one except for myself and the Slytherin Prefects may enter this room. A bathroom is attached opposite your beds, and there’s a door that leads directly to my office. Do not abuse the door and only come if something is wrong. Any other questions will be answered in a moment. You have twenty minutes before you must come and listen to the entire Slytherin speech.”

Each boy nodded and quickly began to chatter, except Crabbe and Goyle, among themselves and went to find their room.

“Looks like you’re with me, Rosier,” said Harry with a laugh. “Sucks for me, I wanted Draco, he doesn’t snore.”

Harry was with Rosier, Crabbe was with Goyle, Theodore was with Blaise and Malfoy was alone, however there was a bed made there and three pairs of shoes.

“Who’re you with, Draco?” asked Harry.

“Not sure, I’ll see what his name is.”

Harry watched and waited for a name to be revealed, but nothing was said and now he was curious.

“Who is it?”

“Rookwood had a son,” said Draco. “That surprises me.”

“Not just a son, Malfoy,” came the voice behind them. “Twins, however, my sister was killed by Aurors when a spell misfired.”

The silence filled the room and Harry studied the boy carefully.

“Of course, I had to have a meeting with the headmaster and missed the Sorting, but was sorted in his office and was placed in Slytherin,” said Rookwood eerily. “I just realized that, except for two of us, we’re all the sons of –”

“That’s enough,” snapped Draco, glaring. “I had no idea your dad had a child, wasn’t he gay?”

“Ha, no,” said Rookwood with a bark of laughter. “He just didn’t want a child, but he managed to get my mum pregnant before getting hauled off to Azkaban.”

“Why are you here, Rookwood?”

“Nott, why so hostile?” said Rookwood, a smirk appeared on his face. “What if I just want to learn?”

“Why are you here?” repeated Theodore.

“Rookwood is only joining us for a year,” said Professor Snape. “Keep the petty pre-school rivalries off the school grounds, Mr. Nott. Now come, there’s plenty to discuss.”

The group followed and stood in the common room with the older years, who were smirking at the new students, some so tall that it would take two of the first-years on each other’s shoulders just too simply meet the shoulders of the tall boys.

Severus Snape stood at the front of the common, just in front of the fireplace, with an emotionless expression on his face. “Now, I am unaware of what Miss. Farley went into detail about, but I am aware that each Prefect uses their own made speech and then enters the basic scripted speech the moment they enter the common room. First and foremost, once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. As the third-year and above students may know, Professor Vector is a Slytherin, as she says, not was a Slytherin.”

“Now, the second thing you should know is simple and even children much younger than you would understand it. I understand that most of you are children with no siblings, others may have a younger, or elder sibling, but most of you are the only child in your family, and I must remind you that you will not act spoilt or like you would at home while attending Hogwarts. Your actions reflect on the entire house.”

“The word Mudblood,” he paused and let in sink in, “will not be used outside of this common room. The word is a slur and the headmaster dislikes it very much, anyone caught saying it will serve two weeks in detention, scrubbing cauldrons. We do not punish the son for the acts of a father, is that understood? Gryffindors do not understand this and will try and discredit you for something your father or mother has done, do not sink to their level and do the same thing. Any other insult, besides any that target blood, race or sexuality are fine. Our house is already the one that people try and avoid, don’t give them a reason to back up rumours.”

“Never leave another Slytherin behind or in danger, if you can help it. Self-preservation is a very valuable trait, and I would hate to see any of you lack it and do something foolish such as diving into a situation, like a Gryffindor, and getting yourself killed. But that does not mean you should leave another Slytherin to suffer the fate that could have been you.”

Harry listened to the very long speech, which took almost an hour and ten minutes, with his entire attention in it. He learned that Slytherin was like a family, a dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. The sixth-years tended to look after the first, second and third-years, as the seventh-years were busy with N.E.W.T.s, the fifth-years were busy with O.W.L.s and the fourth-years just bummed around and enjoyed the show. In the end it explained almost everything that was deemed important, but he soon learned that Professor Snape made multiple references to remaining clean in your dormitories and that any filth would be burned and then you would get three days of detention.

Eventually in all came down to the fact that first-year Slytherins should never walk around the castle alone, as other houses, even if they are years older, will attack a lone Slytherin. It was asinine to learn that a fifth-year would openly attack an eleven year old who was only just making an appearance. IN most sense, he would be safe as his father would have anyone’s head if they dared attack him over something simple as a house, but then again, his father was highly bias of Slytherin house. Someone was killed? A Slytherin did it. An attack on Muggles? Must have been a Slytherin.

Of course, the chat soon went onto ancient pure-blood traditions, that the Slytherin house followed, and that if you needed a touch-up on any etiquette, a book would be provided for free. Then finally, what a lot of the first-years who had Slytherin parents were waiting for. The duelling Pit was explained.

A brief tour proved that it was far from a pit, instead it appeared as if it was a room pulled straight from the Malfoy Manor.

The final piece of information was the list, which was a piece of long parchment that listed every student in the Slytherin house. It appeared to be simple, but no doubt had more spells cast on it then total spells most fourth-years even knew. Next to one name was a ‘C’, some names held a ‘P’, and next to one, there was a ‘HG’, indicating that it was the Head Girl, who happened to be a Slytherin, which raised many hopes for the house of supposed Dark Wizards.

“This list tracks your detentions, points lost, points gained and anything else that will track your progress through the years,” said Professor Snape, standing just to the left of the list. “As you can see, our very own Head Girl received the highest amount of O.W.L.s in her year, and is taking the most N.E.W.T.s this year. It is sorted by year and points gained. The person who receives the most house points for Slytherin in the year will get a one on one lesson from me. You will take an Oath to not reveal who taught you what you learned to anyone. I mean what I said, I’ll aid you in anything you wish. Anyone who has lost more points than they have received will become an outcast, and that’s not a pleasant experience, trust me. Mr. Reed will share his story with you.”

“You do this every year, sir,” said Reed with a sigh. “In my fourth year at this school, I went through the typical teenager phase and was very moody and edgy as I walked through the halls. I spoke back to Professor McGonagall a few times to many and she took seventy-five points when I called her a very unpleasant word. It was three days until the end of the year and I couldn’t earn the points back, so I lost Slytherin thirty points from what I had earned in total. We won the house cup by five points. I’m sure every Slytherin glared at me, openly too –”

“Get to the point, Mr. Reed,” sneered Professor Snape.

“Right,” stuttered Reed. “Basically it was three days of being an outcast and it was by far the worst ever experience I had. My friends all turned on me and sneered at me. I would often wake up with all my things riffled through and most of my underwear turned bright pink – laugh if you will, it wasn’t pleasant as no matter what counter-charm I tried, they just brightened the pink. Long story short, if you’re an outcast, it’s a free for all and you have no one to speak to, no one to ask for help and you’ll be challenged almost daily by the seventh-years in the Duelling Pit, who wanted you to humiliate you and not just beat you –”

“Getting out of the status is hard,” said Professor Snape. “As you cannot really earn points if you’re being targeted by everyone.”

“– once woke up naked in the Slytherin common room with everyone pointing and laughing at me.”

“Enough, Mr. Reed,” scowled Professor Snape. “That event was more traumatizing for us than you. Now you won’t be an outcast over five points, but more like fifty or above.”

The explanation continued, pushing the total time into an hour and twenty minutes. Harry knew that it would have been half of that if their Head of House didn’t use such big words all the time and didn’t have to waste so much time explaining what each word meant when the small group of first-years stared at him blinking.

“Everyone bar the first-years leave,” said Professor Snape, with a wave of his wand and fourteen chairs appeared in a circle. “Sit down – not next to your friends.”

Harry soon learned that the general pattern was to be boy, girl, boy. He sat down next to a slightly taller green, who had long blonde hair, which went down her back and had a part of it over her shoulders. On the other side was a girl with dark hair, which was rather short, and she and a pug-like face.

“You’re in a truth circle,” said Professor Snape. “Judging by some of your faces, you were told about this and then laughed at and explained that it wasn’t ever done again. We’ll start with you, Mr. Rosier.”

No explanation of the truth circle at all. Lovely.

“Hello, my name is Damien Rosier – please just call me Rosier. I’m eleven. My dad was killed shortly after I was born trying to protect my mother and me from Aurors. My favourite colour is light blue and I enjoy reading.”

It continued around the circle, with each person revealing a very tiny part about themselves as soon as it was their turn.

“Hello, my name is Harry Potter. I enjoy reading books on various types of duelling and I have a pet snake, who was unable to attend this year, but I did bring along my owl that was a birthday gift from Draco. My favourite colour is purple, even if it is called a girls colour, I like it. I love potions and I have been making them since I was really young.”

He continued off with his explanation, which took a fair amount longer than anyone else’s. He slightly drifted off and caught the end of Rookwood’s introduction.

“– an Auror stormed our house to apprehend my father, instead of following protocol the Auror attacked a defenceless woman, who was just walking from the sitting room, unaware of what was going on. My father, who was never really loyal to the Dark Lord, lost all sense of self-control and lashed out. Last I heard he got the Auror nicely before he was dragged away to Azkaban and I was moved to France to live with a distant relative. Father and I send letters back and forth whenever we’re allowed, but these days he’s a bit lost in the head due to the fact he watched his wife being slaughtered and that he just lost his son and he constantly remembers that one particular memory because he’s constantly around the Dementors –”

Harry swallowed and filtered the rest out. He knew who killed Rookwood’s mother and it was a rather soft spot for him. His father said it was a misfired curse, but no one exactly cared to investigate and his father didn’t care to allow it. He knew his father, James, was once very close to Mrs. Rookwood, or better known as Lucille Rookwood. Some say that it was an act of vengeance and some agree that it was a spell gone wrong, which happens a lot with Aurors. It was how Rosier’s father was killed by Alastor Moody.

He was glad that Rookwood’s twin sister wasn’t mentioned. Perhaps the truth circle blocked certain triggering events or ones that are far too sad to enjoy. It was selfish, but he was glad that Rookwood would be leaving at the end of the year, whether the schoolyear or the end of the actual year.

“Alright, I kept you up past your curfew, but that’s to be expected,” said Professor Snape, standing. “Bed time is usually at nine sharp, no later. It increases by thirty minutes as you go up a year. This isn’t the case for Astronomy nights, however, you’ll be in bed for a one hour nap at seven and then woken up at eight to prepare for your lesson. You’ll be escorted by a Prefect and you’ll be dropped back here by the professor.”

Harry, along with the rest of the first-years, nodded and quickly made their way to their respective dormitories. He walked into his part and quickly got dressed into a pair of pyjamas, which Rosier tormented him about, and quickly got into bed, wrapping the sheets tightly around him.

* * *

Harry had been an early riser, for as long a she could actually remember, and found himself waking up at fifteen to seven. He glanced off to the side and watched as Rosier fisted the sheets fretfully in his sleep, muttering about Hippogriffs and turning them into potion ingredients if they stepped on his bit of grass once more. He slowly gout out of bed, tiptoeing so he didn’t wake up anyone else with his footsteps, and made his way towards the attached bathroom that was connected to the first-year boys’ dormitory.

He brushed his teeth and got ready for the day in less than ten minutes and, believe it or not, his hair had actually done what he wanted it to. Of course, he borrowed a small amount of wax from Draco, but the blond would never know, it wasn’t like he actually measured how much he used per day.

The moment he stepped into the Slytherin common room, he quickly learned that a lot of Slytherins were just like him and woke up early, whether it was out of habit or just respect. He found a single armchair that was proper up against the wall in the corner of the table, next to it was a lit candle and a the armchair that was sitting there beforehand had been dragged across the common room and used to support a boy as he watched the rather aggressive chess match that was going on. He sat down and opened the book he was reading, which of course was something he snuck from home.

“What are you reading, Potter?”

“Moste Potente Potions,” replied Harry, looking up see a guy who was about three times the size of him. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Pretty advanced book for you,” sneered Flint, his large hands flexed tauntingly.

“Perhaps,” said Harry slowly, not wanting to provoke the large boy. “You’re Quidditch Captain? Nice.”

It was clearly the wrong thing to say the boy in front of him growled, as if he were an animal or a wild beast of some sort. He had read in plenty of books on creatures and never once read about boy that was standing directly in his light.

“Flint,” came the familiar voice of Gemma Farley. “Quit harassing first-years and do something productive.”

Marcus Flint snorted loudly and took a step backwards, levelling his gaze onto the female Prefect. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh please, I’m not a moron,” said Gemma. “You were looming over him, trying to either intimidate or scare him into doing something. You do these things almost constantly.”

“Before you got that little badge you would join in with us and now you’re like the saviour of Slytherin. Don’t act innocent, because you’re not.”

“You have two options, Flint, you leave him alone, or I’ll make you leave him alone.”

Harry, who had already closed the book, leaned forwards in anticipation on what was going to happen.

“Is that a threat, Gemma?” sneered Flint. “What are you going to do, strike me down in the middle of the common room?”

Gemma gave him a sweetened smile. “In five minutes, you’re going to duel me, the first-years should see one before the lessons start. You accept of course? Your reputation is hanging by a thread, wouldn’t want to turn down duelling a girl, would you? Unless you’re scared.”


	8. No Foolish Wand Waving

_Old Name_ : Clairvoyance

 _New Name_ : No Foolish Wand Waving

 _Rewritten_ : 02/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry followed behind Gemma as she stormed across the Slytherin common room. The excited chatter of the first and second-year students was almost defending, despite the fact that it was just mindless chatter, it all combined and made for some pretty loud conversations. He was directed behind a large green tapestry and through a little corridor before he was standing in front of a blank wall. It took about fifteen seconds before a large green and silver trimmed oak door formed in the room and then opened, revealing a luxuriously decorated room, which held a tournament length duelling stage in the very center of the room.

The first thought that went through his mind was whether every house had something like this, and if it was kept secret for some reason.

“This is the Duelling Pit,” said Gemma as soon as everyone settled. “It was created by Salazar Slytherin when he first made the castle with the other three founders. He was adamant that duelling should be a lesson taught at Hogwarts, and when the other three disagreed he decided that he would create a duelling arena in the dungeons, where his own house could freely duel. It follows tradition duelling, which I am aware that most of you will be unaware of as it isn’t exactly taught, even among the pure-blood lines.”

“The room blocks the Dark Magic Ward from activing when dark curses are cast, however if you cast any of the three Unforgivable Curses you’ll be dumped from the room and placed straight in the office of the Headmaster. There’s two different lists regarding this very room in the dungeons. One is in the common room and the other resides in Professor Snape’s office. They update when a duel has been propositioned and then will display the results of the duel next to it.”

“All this and more will explained in more depth next year for the first-years, everyone else should know this by now as it is explained on the first duel each year.”

Harry gave a polite nod at the small speech by Gemma. A part of him was thrilled to have caused the first duel of the year, but another part of him felt slightly out of place at being so highly defended by the girl, he wondered what he did to win her attention. His eyes darted to the sleepy looking students that shuffled about, trying to get a better view of the duel that would soon be happening.

Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin House, waltzed into the room, and walked through the small gap that the students left him. He found himself in the center of the duelling platform in no time, his dark eyes going over each individual in the room, noting who was absent or not. “What,” he started in a very slow drawl, one that would make even the bravest Gryffindors take a small step backwards, “are the terms for this duel?”

“Because of the nature of mine, I’ll be keeping it as quiet as possible,” said Gemma, moving towards the professor and whispering the term into his ear. “Is that fine?”

“Yes,” said Professor Snape. “Mr. Flint, what is your term?”

Every single student leaned forwards in anticipation, wondering what Flint would want. It was so suspenseful, just waiting for what would be said.

“If and when I win the duel,” started Flint, his eyes flashing with some kind of emotion. “I want Gemma to hand in her Prefect badge.”

A few gasps where heard, but that was it.

“You agree, Miss. Farley?”

“Yes, Professor Snape, that term is an excellent one. Now I feel bad for not suggesting to take away his Quidditch Captaincy.”

A few stifled chuckles from the girls echoed throughout the room. Harry stood off to the side and examined the posture of the fifth-year Gemma and the sixth-year Marcus Flint, they were both different in every aspect of duelling. Gemma tended to have a posture of self-confidence, but held herself elegantly. Whereas Flint was a brute, who would use brute force to get what he wanted.

It wasn’t long before the spells started. Reds, greens, purples, light-yellows. A few slammed into the ward that surrounded the platform and it wobbled slightly, but held firm.

“The ward eats magic through at it,” explained Rosier softly. “It’s self-sustaining, rather genius, isn’t it?”

“For how old it is,” said Harry, watching as a red spell vanished from In front of him. “It’s amazing.”

He continued to watch the display of magic being thrown back and forth. For a while it really looked as if Flint would win due to his brutal and relentless attacks against Gemma’s Shielding Charm, which instead of casting rapidly, she instead funnelled power into and help one continuous one. If he had learned anything, it was it was worse to do that, but sometimes there wasn’t much else you could do.

Both Gemma and Flint had beads of sweat pouring down their faces, cuts across their arms and chests and a puddle of blood, mixed with water and some other liquid was present on the duelling platform.

The closeness of the duel had people placing bets easily, Galleons exchanged hands quickly and others were so smug about it that they bet, what Harry would call a lifetime worth of Galleons for the Weasley family, on this single duel.

“Come on, Flint,” one boy screeched, his fists clenched together. “All the bragging you did about what your dad taught you…”

“Oh be quiet,” whispered a girl. “You know better than us that he made himself worn out by his aggressive style, it’d worked on most, but Gemma is proficient in Shielding Charms.”

It wasn’t much longer after that when Marcus Flint groaned and was tossed across the platform. His spell had miscast, due to his anger and he hit himself with it and then Gemma simply followed up on his mistake and wrapped him with magical binds.

When Flint refused to concede, despite being wrapped tightly in the spell bindings, he was stunned by Gemma and forced to concede by Professor Snape.

“As Marcus Flint’s second, I hereby concede the duel,” said Professor Snape in his usual tone. He glanced at Gemma and then Harry and began to walk towards the door. “That’s all for today, as I have lessons to prepare and you have about fifteen minutes until breakfast.”

Gemma stepped off the platform shortly afterwards and rushed towards Harry, squashing him in a hug. “You should never doubt me, Harry, I saw it when I announced it.”

“I did no such thing,” said Harry instantly, throwing his hands up. “I simply assumed that you were going to curse him in the middle of the common room. I had no idea that a duelling room was hidden behind a tapestry.”

“Sure, sure,” said Gemma with a wide smile. “Regardless, have three points for not reacting to his baiting.”

Draco watched with a sly smile on his face, he waited for the Prefect to leave before he wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Looks like you have lady friend. I never knew you were into older girls, Harry,” he ignored Harry’s snort. “Anyway, we have about thirteen minutes left before we have to attend breakfast. What do you want to do until then?”

Harry shrugged and then laughed before muttering, “Help me re-organize my trunk.”

And so they did. The two of them spent the entire time reorganizing Harry’s trunk, which was rather messy due to constant digging around it for books, which happened to be on the bottom of the trunk. Draco, being the prat he is, had a great time laughing about Harry’s underwear and tossing it around and muttering about turning it pink and purple. Harry just shook his head and smiled at his friend’s antics, picking up random pieces of clothes and then sorting them with dates they are to be worn.

“Hurry, Harry, it’s time for breakfast, stop dragging your feet or Professor Snape will give us a detention,” said Draco as he dragged his friend across the dungeons. “Don’t worry, the novelty of this place wears off soon – at least that’s what father said. It’s always hard for us firsties, but it gets easier as time goes on. Plus you have a Prefect on your side, you have it the easiest.”

Harry walked next to Draco with the boy who called himself Theodore Nott, of course they hadn’t really spoken, just seen each other a few times and gave a slight smile before going on with their own tasks. Well in the fourteen or so hours they had been at Hogwarts anyway.

The three of them walked through the halls happily chatting about what they plan to do in the future and about things they have learnt. Of course being at Hogwarts for one day and not yet attended a lesson meant they didn’t have much to talk about. They realized they were walking a little slower than usual and sped up their pace. They walked into the Great Hall and ignored the snickering by the Gryffindors and sat at the Slytherin table.

Breakfast, besides the snickering Gryffindors, was a rather peaceful affair, with a meal almost rivalling the Start-of-Term Feast. While Draco piled on an unhealthy amount of pancakes that were more syrup than pancake onto his plate, Harry decided that he would ignore Rosier and Theodore, who were pestering him, and focus on chatting to the Bloody Baron, who seemed to linger near him constantly, staring.

The Bloody Baron told Harry all about the four founders, as he was apparently in their time and helped with the start up with the school. He vastly enjoyed explaining about his tutelage under Salazar Slytherin, but avoided speaking about Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, for some unknown reason.

Nothing else eventful happened, most students were shocked to see the Bloody Baron actually speaking to someone besides Peeves.

Harry, Draco and Rosier, Theodore decided to remain and try and fit in a few more mouthfuls of food, left the Great Hall a few minutes earlier than they normally would have. Of course, it was just Harry’s luck that made them run into Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, who wasn’t as bad as the other two, on the way out.

“Potter,” came a sneering voice from the right, it didn’t take long to guess it who belonged to.

Ronald Weasley.

“I see that you finally came down to eat,” he continued with another sneer and puffing out his chest. “I’m amazed that you didn’t throw a fit about the food being disgusting or not up to your uppity standards.”

Harry knew that Weasley wouldn’t hold his tongue as they passed each other, it was impossible for the redhead to think rationally for more than 0.3 seconds.

“I’m not sure, Weasley, the food was pretty bad, but clearly not as bad as the food that your mother cooked, now that was terrible…”

Ron turned a violent shade of red, almost matching his hair.

“I guess I just needed some kind of excuse to not eat her food,” said Harry with a cruel looking smirk on his face. “So I came up with the best idea ever. I simply said that I was a fussy eater so that I didn’t have to eat her food, which tasted like dirt.”

“HARRY!” said Neville in complete shock. “That was so rude and mean, Molly’s food is great.”

“The truth hurts,” replied Harry, looking around appearing to be uninterested with the direction of this particular conversation.

“You think you’re so great, don’t you, Potter?” screeched Ron, his voice a few tones higher than it should be. “Growing up you were such a spoilt brat. I remember listening to mum once when she was talking to dad about you. When you were five you had more books than most families combined and yet you still begged for more.”

“So my family had money,” said Harry slowly, his voice unaffected by emotion at all. “I realize that’s foreign to you, but others have it.”

“Do you know why you were so spoilt?” Continued Ron, ignoring the fact that both Neville and Hermione were gesturing for him to stop, he needed to say this. “Because they were _afraid_ , Potter, afraid of _you_.”

“That’s stupid,” muttered Harry.

“I agree with Harry,” said Rosier, straight after Harry had spoken. “That is such a ridiculous claim.”

“Of course you’d agree, Rosier.”

“And why do you assume that?” said Rosier, softly. “I’ve disagreed with Harry plenty of times before.”

“Whatever, Rosier,” said Ron loudly. “The point is that your parents, Potter, bowed to your every wish because they feared you.”

“They bought me things, books, simply because, unlike your family, we could afford it. As parents, it’s their job to at least try and nurture any talents I have. I realize it’s a foreign feeling for you, as you have no talents to be nurtured, but at least try and grasp it before you make even more of a fool of yourself.”

“Still –” began Ron, only to be interrupted by Harry.

“I think it’s funny that you think that I could intimidate the Head Auror, at what? The age of five,” sneered Harry. “Do you know what they have to go through to get that position? Unlike your father’s position, mine had to work for it, with gruelling trials and mock battles.”

“Irrelevant,” scowled Ron, turning a slight red once more. “Have you even told your dad that you’re in Slytherin? Of course not, of course not.”

“Your point?”

“You knew that your sorting would upset him, seeing as he was determined to see you in Gryffindor, yet you never informed him where you went. Some son you are.”

Severus was watching the very small group argument with a keen eye. It really couldn’t be called an argument, because no one was screeching or shouting or even throwing curses, but still, it had the aura of an argument. The entire thing was nothing but tense.

Anyone who knew Lily Potter knew that the tone that her son was using was from her, the tone that wasn’t a screech, nor a shout, but just as deadly and punishing. She was far more frightening when speaking calmly rather than yelling. The ability to remain calm, even when furious knocked a few people off course. Severus of course knew that Harry had taken all of Lily’s mannerisms and changed them to be his own, slightly merged with anything that was taught by Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

He silently pitied Ronald Weasley.

“Oh be quiet, Weasley,” huffed Harry, an expression off annoyance briefly flashed on his face. The words were spoken in pure calmness, as if it was a polite conversation, yet they held a very sharp edge to them.

Severus leaned forwards in anticipation, from the corner of his eye, he saw Minerva debating whether to aid her students or let them get hit with it.

“I honestly care very little for what you have to say Weasley,” continued Harry in the same tone. “I already know what you meant with you said, even the dumbest person alive would have caught the subtle hint that you attempted to make. You assume that I used some sort of dark spell to make my parents obedient to my wishes. You’ve pretty much called me evil since I first met you, despite the fact that I never even spoke to you.”

Ron opened his mouth to object, and claim he was right, then closed it instantly, a dark look from Neville told him that perhaps he should in fact remain quiet.

“That wand you have – yeah, that one – my mother bought you while we were in Ollivanders –”

“It was a gift,” interrupted Ron, “from Mr. Ollivander.”

“A gift that my mother paid for, it was essentially from my mother, who bought it for you because she felt bad that you couldn’t even afford a new wand.”

Harry gave a dark sounding laugh and smirked at the second youngest Weasley. “Mother said this, about you. ‘ _I feel sorry for Ronald – having six siblings, five of which have already done great thing sat Hogwarts and now he has to go and try and raise the bar_.” He smiled. “ _The only talent he has is chess, but even then, if I remember right, Bill and Charlie were both really good at it also.’_ That is what my mother said about you.”

“Stop lying,” snapped Ron irritably, scowling he glared at the black-haired boy. “I know she didn’t say that, she would never say any of that.”

“She did,” said Harry, a smirk on his face. “You know that she’s honest, she would never lie about anything like that. My mother pities you, Weasley.”

“You’re just trying to make yourself look good, because you had no friends,” said Ron, the tips of his ears red, “just a pet snake and books. That’s all you did was read books.”

“At least I can actually read, Weasley,” said Harry bitterly. “I would have no friends and retain my ability to actually be productive and make my own money. Unlike you, who will be leeching off your parents until you’re like twenty, I can already see it. It’s the same reason why you even bothered to become friends with Longbottom, to ride the fame that he has and hopefully use that to get yourself somewhere, as you would be unknown without him and quite honestly I’m pretty sure Granger only sits with you because the famous loyalty of Gryffindor is false and she has been cast aside.”

“You know nothing about Gryffindor!” shouted Ron.

“I know plenty about the house, Weasley, do you know who my parents are? The Marauders? Please, I know the Gryffindor introductory speech off by heart. I swear father used to read it to me every morning.”

Harry sneered and spun on the spot dragging Draco and Rosier with him. “This conversation was a complete waste of time, Weasley. I would have got better answers from a troll.”

Severus watched silently as Harry tugged Rosier and Draco Malfoy away by the sleeves of their robes, neither boys complained about being tugged away, and out the doors. He did wonder if the three boys would make it to potions on time, and how he could punish them if they didn’t. He glanced around and saw the startled looks on most of the faces of students, along with some professors who seemed to be frozen at the sheer outrage that had occurred.

It was very rare for a Potter to Dislike a Weasley, the two families had been close friends for decades and decades, almost a century in fact. It may not appear to be a long time, especially considering how old the former is, but pure-blooded families tend to feud over the smallest things.

Of course, if it was anyone to break any sort of traditions, it would be Harry Potter.

“Severus,” said Minerva softly, no malice or anger in her voice at all. If anything, it contained concern. “May I have a quick word in my office?”

Severus gave a very discreet nod, that only the woman in question would catch and followed her towards her office. He was slightly curious on why that little confrontation would warrant a meeting between two Head of Houses, but he wouldn’t argue the point.

* * *

Rosier was the first of the three to break from the group, claiming he needed to visit the Owlery real quick and dashed off before either Harry or Draco could even think about protesting his absence or claiming that they would join.

Draco was the next to flee the walk around the rather lager and daunting Black Lake. Of course, Harry understood, it was a long journey plus it wasn’t something two boys would normally do. It was more of a couple’s thing or a boy and girl thing, boys didn’t tend to do that sort of thing.

On the way around, Harry found Gemma sitting under a rather large tree that was off to the side of the dirt path around the lake. She had a book open on the grass and was writing down something every twenty or so seconds, clearly studying something.

“What’re you studying?” he asked, sitting down next to her. “It’s only the first day of lessons, as far as I’m aware. I hope I didn’t miss any work that needed to be done.”

“You’re safe, for now,” laughed Gemma, twisting her quill in-between her fingers. “You’ll find that most of the fifth-years will be doing what I’m doing and constantly pushing their heads into books.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“In a way, it is,” said Gemma, turning the page. “I just struggle with Potions, it’s by far my weakest subject.”

“Potions is easy,” said Harry with a toothy grin, peering down at the page that she was reading. “I don’t mean to brag, but I brewed that flawlessly when I was ten.”

Gemma made a noise of agreement before putting down her quill and staring at him pointedly. “Alright, then, Mr. Smarty-pants, what ingredient is missing from this potion?”

Harry leaned over slightly, putting his finger on his chin and humming as if in deep thought. “Nothing, you substituted it with the third ingredient you added,” he said, shifting his finger to said ingredient. “You could also remove two of these and add a much cheaper ingredient and get the exact same result, saving you money – I suggest not mentioning that, else Professor Snape will know I helped you, as it was he and I who came up with it.”

“When?”

“When I was about five or six, give or take. We used to talk potions theory before I brewed any of them. He used to always say my small hands were a blessing in disguise.”

“Really?” said Gemma with a laugh. “I never ever thought I’d hear anyone say that about Professor Snape.”

The conversation drifted into other subjects, eventually straight into Harry’s sorting.

“You do know that you were sitting on that stool for about fifteen minutes, right?” said Gemma, a smile on her face.

“Really?” asked Harry, completely taken by the statement. “I thought it was only like five minutes, maybe three.”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, it was the longest sorting I’ve ever actually seen,” said Gemma happily, closing her book. “It was odd how the hat actually spoke to you after you left, I didn’t think it could do that.”

“What can I say?” said Harry with a mock smile, his hands lifted to his side. “I’m Harry Potter. Destined for greatness. Oddities are to be expected.”

“I expect no less, from the great Harry Potter,” said Gemma with a chuckle, which was instantly stopped when a distant bell sound was heard from the castle. “Oh Merlin, I’m made you late for your first ever class! If I recall right, Potions no less.”

“I can assure you that I know most of the material anyway.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gemma waved him off and scrawled a note. “This should cover you, here, I’ll walk you so you don’t get detention for skiving.”

“Thank you.”

“Right, shouldn’t take us long to get there. I’m sorry Harry.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure Professor Snape will just quiz me or something.”

“I doubt he’ll take points from you as you’re a Slytherin, and he only does that when you’ve done something abysmal and messed around. I guess you should be mentally prepared to be ridiculed and not react. If you were a Gryffindor you’d have like a month of detention and lose fifty points.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow, he went to ask a question, but was beaten to it by getting the answer.

“And before you scream favouritism, I can assure you that it’s not. Slytherin get targeted by Professor McGonagall for the slightest things, all Heads of Houses are like that.”

“I guess that makes sense,” said Harry. He let the conversation die out until they reached the potions classroom.

Gemma knocked once and waited for the call of ‘enter’ and slowly opened the door, peering her head in and giving a slightly sheepish look. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have your missing student.”

“Oh,” drawled Professor Snape, staring at her with his dark eyes.

“Here he is, we were –”

“Mr. Potter,” interrupted Professor Snape smoothly, his eyes flicked to the familiar green eyes of the boy. “What was so important that you had to miss your very first lesson of the school year?”

“You see, sir,” began Harry in a smooth tone of voice. “Gemma and I were walking up the staircase, wanting to visit the library, of course, and midway up the staircase one of the stairs vanished and Gemma got her footing wrong and nearly fell off the staircase. As I am not a Muggle, I simply attempted to levitate her back up, but that was not working as the staircase began shifting again, and my own footing was thrown off. Eventually we got ourselves up and decided that the castle was informing us that I was late for a class and was attempting to head us back down towards the dungeons.”

“Mr. Potter, are you aware of how ridiculous that story is?”

Harry lifted an eyebrow and stared at the professor.

“But, I must admit I have seen a few students be caught by that staircase that vanishes, however I had no idea it moved from the fifth-floor down to the third-floor.”

“Yes,” agreed Harry, giving a slight head nod at the agreement. “I believe it was attempting to shift around to catch those that were attempting to sneak around, which wasn’t me, I was simply exploring and lost track of time.”

Professor Snape knew that the story was ridiculous, but he wanted to see how far he could make the boy lie to cover his tracks. So far, he was acting like a Slytherin, but also he was doing something no Slytherin should do, and blow the lie out of proportion.

“Mr, Potter,” he said silkily, “if I were to ask where this staircase was, would you be able to redirect me?”

“Of course, sir, I could show you right now and the same thing would happen. Of course, I wouldn’t fall down it trying to save you, because I know exactly where it is.”

“I shall check it out later,” said Professor Snape calmly. “As for your tardiness, it isn’t tolerated in this school, Mr. Potter. Even with a note from a Prefect, you’re still late, and that would result in a detention.”

Harry pursed his lips, but stood perfectly straight, as straight as Lucius had taught him, and stared directly at the professor. He ignored Weasley’s snort from left, which was clearly the Gryffindor side, which was perfect, as that house was never right. He did wonder if he would be punished or questions with any potion related questions, but so far all his godfather did was stare at him with an expressionless face.

“Longbottom!” snapped Professor Snape, causing the boy to jump. “Stand next to Mr. Potter, I’m asking you a series of questions. You should have already known them, let’s see if Mr. Potter had the intelligence to read up before class.”

Neville quickly got to his feet, and stood next to Harry, almost towering the boy.

“Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Harry waited, clearly the question wasn’t to him, as Professor Snape was still staring at Neville Longbottom.

“The stomach of a goat.”

“Five points form Gryffindor,” snapped Professor Snape, his voice cold and bitter. “You will address your professors with the correct amount of respect.”

Neville muttered something under his breath and straightened slightly.

“Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape. “What is the purpose of a bezoar?”

“The bezoar is an antidote for _most_ poisons,” said Harry simply, already knowing how the professor worked with questions. He despised anyone who appeared to come off as a know-it-all.

Professor Snape kept his expression blank. It was basic knowledge, and despite the fact that only four other people, excluding himself, in the classroom knew what Potter was talking about was irrelevant. Longbottom was taught potions by Augusta Longbottom and Lily Potter. Granger was an insufferable know-it-all. Draco Malfoy would have learned it from either Harry Potter or his mother, Narcissa.

“Longbottom,” sneered Professor Snape. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

“Um,” said Neville, unsure. “I’m not sure, sir.”

“Mr. Potter?”

“You would get the Draught of Living Death.”

If anyone realized that Harry didn’t have to say sir, no one said anything.

“What potion reverses the effects of the Draught of Living Death?” said Professor Snape, turning to Neville Longbottom, who was now going a slight shade of pink.

“Professor, this is N.E.W.T level potions.”

“Mr. Potter understands, clearly.”

“I don’t know,” muttered Neville somewhat sadly.

“Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape, turning to the boy in question. “Do you know the answer?”

“The Wiggenweld Potion counters the Draught of Living Death.”

“Five points to Slytherin,” said Professor Snape. “Do you know the history behind it?”

“A wizard prince once used this potion to awaken a princess who had been given the Draught of Living Death by Leticia Somnolens. The prince first put some of the potion on his lips and then kissed the princess.”

“And?”

“This was the event that Muggles now believe to be a folk tale dubbed as Sleeping Beauty.”

“Excellent. Five points to Slytherin,” said Professor Snape and turned towards the board. “Take a seat next to Mr. Malfoy.”

“I saved you a seat,” said Draco softly.

“Why are none of you writing that down?” barked Professor Snape with a sneer.

Every student dashed for a quill and some ink and began scrawling down what they could remember of the almost tense questioning session. When they were done, they rushed to the cupboard and got the ingredients for their very first brewing session.

Harry placed the ingredients for the potion on the table with a sigh and glanced at Draco. “Next time you’re getting them. That storage area is a mess.”

“It gets cleaned constantly, but as you know some people aren’t neat,” said Draco in a whisper, placing the cauldron onto the table. “I don’t even need to ask if you know how to brew this potion, seeing as you made it for me when you were seven at the manor.”

Harry heard a snort from behind him, which quite clearly came from Rosier.

“Be quiet, Rosy,” he sneered, not even looking over his shoulder. The dropping of a knife was enough evidence that he was right. “You wouldn’t want to mess up this potion, it is a beginner potion after all.”

“Git,” said Rosier just under his breath, correcting the dropped knife.

Harry smirked. Although, deep down he was thankful that Draco had a brain and wouldn’t be useless or a leech in potions and that made this lesson less stressful. He watched as Draco crushed the snake fangs as he prepared the other ingredients.

Professor Snape walked around the tables and lazily watched as students brewed with some fear in what they were doing.

Harry watched as the Boy Who Lived dropped some ingredients into his and Weasley’s cauldron when Professor Snape sneered at his potion.

That was just the beginning in a long string of failures for the Boy Who Lived. Harry had to stifle plenty of laughs at how often Professor Snape stalked over there and intentionally spread fear into the Gryffindor students. He threw the horned slugs into his potion without even looking and watched as Professor Snape degraded Neville more and more while praising Slytherins.

“Ten points from Gryffindor!” bellowed Professor Snape. “Keep your disgusting language out of my classroom, Mr. Weasley.”

Gryffindor was already on zero points, going into the negatives.

Harry made a sound that sounded like a dying hippogriff and averted his eyes towards the desk. He felt eyes on him and he had to control himself before he lost it, the look on Neville’s face would stay in his mind forever. He couldn’t take much more; his eyes were almost burning holes in the desk with how hard he was looking at it. He felt the nudge from Draco to quit laughing and he attempted just that, he was thankful when Professor Snape walked towards them.

“Ah, yes, this is a perfect potion, thus far,” praised Professor Snape, leaning over and examining it. “Flawless. Five points to Slytherin.”

Professor Snape continued to praise Harry’s and Draco’s potion until a hiss caught his attention, then clouds of acid green smoke filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Ron’s cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

Harry gaped at the Boy Who Lived and was about to say something scolding, but Professor Snape beat him to it.

“Idiot boy!” sneered Professor Snape, vanishing the mess that was destroying his classroom. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Harry watched as both Weasley and Longbottom quivered in fear.

“Clearly fame isn’t everything!” he barked at the nearest boy, who just happened to be Seamus Finnigan. “Take him to the hospital wing!”

Hermione, who was adding ingredients was startled when black robes blocked the light onto her desk. She looked up and looked directly into the dark eyes of Professor Snape.

“You – Granger – why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? Trying to upstage the Boy Who Lived? Ten points from Gryffindor.”

Harry sat there, mentally counting to five as he tried to shove the look of Granger’s face from his mind. He was just about calm until the idiot, Ronald Weasley, had to open his mouth.

“That’s not fair, you didn’t even see it happen, it’s not our fault that you’re a –”

“I’m a what, Mr. Weasley?” said Professor Snape calmly, his lips twisting into a sneer as he looked down on the boy.

“N-Nothing, sir, I’m sorry,” whimpered Ron, looking at his destroyed cauldron.

“Five points from Gryffindor for your obvious disrespect, another five points for lying to a professor, and finally a month of detention with Filch.” Severus’ lips curled deeper with each word and he took full pride in making the said Gryffindor jump slightly with each word.

Harry and Draco finished their potion and got an Outstanding for it when they handed it in, plus five points each. They spent the rest of the lesson softly speaking before their next lesson. History of Magic, the lesson that Harry was looking forward to as it would allow him to research the history and maybe learn something new.

“Who’s the History of Magic professor?” asked Harry, just loud enough for his friend to hear him clearly, but no one else.

Draco frowned but shook his head quickly. “The History of Magic professor is of course Professor Binns, he taught my father and mother, and most likely your parents too – that’s it – that’s all I’m saying, I’m not ruining it for you, as others did for me.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow but said nothing more on the matter, instead the two of them walked silently towards the classroom, with Theodore Nott and Sally-Anne trailing not far behind. He stepped into the classroom and realized that the professor wasn’t yet there, this made him slightly smile, and he was early which meant he could get the front seats for a better experience.

“No, Harry!” said Draco, tugging Harry backwards. “We are not sitting at the front!”

He pulled his friend into the back row and sighed in relief when he knew he could sleep or nap peacefully up here without the foul ghost spitting at him.

Harry looked at Draco with a puzzled expression before just shrugging and setting out his things, he had a smile on his face and he was ready, ready for a fun lesson that he would actually learn in, unlike potions, which he already knew.

“My subject is of course History of Magic,” droned Professor Binns. “Today, I will be teaching you about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911 – fascinating time, 1911.”

Harry was pretty sure he was gaping at the professor, not that he – she – it noticed at all, the ghost was daft, or blind, he decided on the former. He glanced around and realized that the majority of the class was asleep or drifting off into some other realm that was not the awoken. He himself found it hard to remain awake with how Professor Binns droned on the subject; he managed to scrawl a few notes before falling into a restive state. He started to fidget about and just couldn’t deal with how boring the class was. He turned to Draco who had his head flat on the desk; his near perfect hair was slightly roughed up on the top.

Professor Binns kept reading in his usual drone, disregarding the sleeping children. “During the wildcat Gargoyle Strike of 1911, the wildcats were winning when –”

Harry’s eyes shut and he tuned out the professor, he never thought he’d find a history lesson so boring, of course some part of him made himself write down things when he heard them so he could study them later, although all he needed was the name and his brain would do the rest. He briefly wondered how people would enjoy this lesson if Professor Binns was a little like Professor Snape and ruthless with his teachings.

The sleep was peaceful for Harry, whom had dreamed of some stupid mirror that held nothing for him in it, well it showed something but he couldn’t remember it. The other part of his brief dream was something about Rowena Ravenclaw and a Diadem, which she apparently hid in a shrub. He was woken by Draco who shoved him gently to wake him up. “Hm – Draco – what do you want?”

“For you to wipe the drool from your chin and move so I can leave this infernal classroom,” demanded Draco. “I haven’t all day, I want lunch!”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Harry sheepishly, wiping the drool from his chin. “I suppose I’m hungry myself, because of potions, it always makes me hungry for some reason.”

“How can you even be hungry while looking at those ingredients?” asked Draco with a curious glance, seeing as he was disgusted by half the things used in potions.

“Not sure,” said Harry simply. “I guess I spent enough time around them for them to not bother me.”

* * *

“Wait, Draco! Who is the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor again?” asked Harry, glancing at the floor as he spoke. He’d never admit that he had never exactly looked at who the professors were, instead he just guessed and was correct most of the time. “I forgot.”

“Sure,” said Draco as he pursed his lips and turned to face his friend. “His name is Professor Quirrell, I think. The one who stutters and looks at Longbottom as if he holds the world’s greatest secret.”

“He stutters?”

“Yes, Harry, he stutters.”

“How are we meant to learn anything if the professor cannot even speak a sentence correctly?”

“Don’t be rude, Harry,” said Draco with a slightly scolding tone. “From what I have heard, he used to be the Muggle Studies professor and left to get some firsthand experience and something happened.”

Professor Quirrell whipped around to see two boys walking into class late. “Mr. P-P-Potter and Mr. M-Malfoy. Y-You’re late to m-my cl-cl-class. I w-will not t-tolerate such ta-ta-tardiness!”

Harry took a very quiet deep breath, trying not to laugh at the professor. The last thing he wanted to do was disrespect the professor in the very first lesson and be dubbed as rude because he laughed at someone who stutters. The man smelt like garlic, also, which was odd. The garlicy smell was so potent it was almost inducing tears to sprout at his eyes from the sheer power of the smell alone.

This professor must believe the rumours that Professor Snape is a vampire.

“I apologize, Professor Quirrell,” said Harry smoothly, his eyes directly on the forehead of the professor. “You will never believe what held us up –”

Draco let out a silent sigh as his friend rambled on with a completely made up story that only an idiot would believe. Of course he was used to such exaggeration with Harry, a small thing turned into a major thing, especially when it revolves around himself. The story of when he was attacked by the peacocks at Malfoy Manor sprung straight to mind.

“– and then we finally made it here, in one piece of course,” continued Harry, aware that all eyes were on him. “We would have been early if not for Professor Binns trying to herd us into the seventh-year History of Magic lesson.”

Professor Quirrell waved them both into a seat, which was apparently saved so they could sit together and began to start the class, which was really on two minutes later and one minute and a half of those were listening to the Potter boy’s story about how he was almost kidnapped by a ghost.

“T-Today I thought w-we would d-do something s-special! We w-will be d-doing a spell!” said Professor Quirrell cheerfully. “T-Today, we will be le-learning about the W-Wand-Lighting C-Charm, o-otherwise known as L-Lumos.” He glanced around at the students, he wanted to see what the Boy Who Lived could do but his eyes were pulled towards the green-eyed boy who was sitting there trying not to laugh. “Mr. P-Potter would y-you like to attempt t-the W-Wand-Lighting C-Charm?”

“Of course, professor, I’d love to,” said Harry. He stood up and walked towards the front of the classroom, stopping just next to the professor. He flourished his wand and smiled. “L-Lumos!”

The class burst out in laughter, all except for Neville Longbottom, who was taking his role as the Boy Who Lived seriously.

Harry turned to his professor with a sad smile. “Can I try again?”

“C-Certainly Mr. P-Potter, you may t-try again,” replied Professor Quirrell.

Harry flourished his wand again and smiled. “Lum –”

Neville jumped up which caused Harry to stop casting. “Don’t bother professor, he’s just going to mock you again!”

Harry furrowed his brow, and scowled at Neville. It was funny once, he wasn’t going to mess around again, he was told not to push limits with people, especially those more powerful than him. “Sit down Longbottom, before your _courage_ loses Gryffindor more points.”

Neville frowned. “Why do you have to be so mean, Harry? I just don’t understand.”

Harry knew better, he just smiled at the boy and stood quietly while the professor observed. He saw a strange glint in Professor Quirrell’s eyes but ignored it.

Professor Quirrell turned towards the said boy in question with a strange smile on his face, which he was sure that the green-eyed boy saw, he would deal with that in just a moment. “Mr. L-Longbottom – the B-Boy Who L-Lived, it is a p-pleasure to m-meet you! W-Would you l-like to t-try t-the W-Wand-Lighting C-Charm? I’m sure a w-wizard of your c-calibre could m-mange it.”

Harry set an expression of being disinterested in the exchange onto his face, He stood at the front of the room awkwardly and began to look at his nails, a terrible habit that Narcissa got him into.

“I’ll try, professor,” said Neville almost happily. “I haven’t had the time to practice this spell yet as I’ve been focusing on some of the more defensive spells, such as the Shield Charm.”

Professor Quirrell nodded and gestured for the boy to do the spell.

“Lumos!” said Neville, flicking his wand in the correct movement.

Nothing happened.

Harry snorted at the failed attempt, of course.

“I’m sorry professor; I’m not sure what happened.”

Professor Quirrell said nothing when the Boy Who Lived failed the simplest spells, but he didn’t let it deter him from the green-eyed boy – Harry Potter – who was standing near him with his wand in his hand seemingly uninterested in whatever the Boy Who Lived was doing. Something pulled him towards the boy; he tried his hardest to ignore that pulling feeling. His eyes raked over the boy’s wand, it was seemingly large and bigger than most other wands, it was impressive to say the least. He wasn’t sure if the boy would be able to handle it well, but he could, he had exceptional control over it when he flourished it around for the whole class to see.

It appeared as time froze for Professor Quirrell while he was examining the boy that had an aura of confidence about him, despite being so pale and tiny. In some sense, the boy was a reminder of his own childhood, or an Obliviated childhood, one that he once had a grasp of but cannot bring to the front of his mind. In another second, his eyes turned back to the Boy Who Lived and that famous or infamous scar, depending on how you looked at it. Someone who was able to defeat the most powerful wizard at the age of one failed a simple Lumos? Of course maybe he shouldn’t have tried this spell in particular on their first lesson. He did wonder why Slytherin and Gryffindor shared a lesson; he remembered the animosity between the two while he was at school. He was snapped out of his slight reverie when the green-eyed boy asked him a question.

“Would you like me to try the spell, Professor Quirrell?” asked Harry for the second time, seeing as the professor had zoned out. “I should be able to do it, as long as _someone_ doesn’t interrupt again.”

“Of course, Mr. P-Potter, p-please try a-again,” said Professor Quirrell simply and took a step back, waiting for the boy to cast the spell. For a brief moment he wondered if the green-eyed boy was glaring at Neville with a smirk that screamed ‘I can do this and you cannot’ but he shoved that thought out of his mind. He didn’t have time to drabble with petty resolves of children.

Harry flourished his wand and sighed. “Lumos!”

Professor Quirrell didn’t expect the spell to actually work; in fact he almost clapped until he pulled himself out of it. The bright light filled the room; it had to be the brightest Lumos that he had ever seen in his life. He realized instantly there was power around the spell, power that could change things, how did an eleven year old boy get so powerful? Maybe he could use Potter, easily, turn him against the Boy Who Lived, that wouldn’t take much.

“That w-was e-excellent w-work, Mr. P-Potter, ten p-points to S-Slytherin for t-that perfect L-Lumos,” he said in a praising tone. “We w-will now s-study on c-curing werewolf b-bites.”

The entire class sat quietly and began to study the text on curing werewolf bites, of course most didn’t understand the whole situation, even Harry was included in that, he had no idea what half the text meant. He furrowed his brow when he learned that a mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite will seal the wound and allow the victim to live on as a werewolf, although tragic tales are told of witches and wizards begging for death rather than becoming werewolves.

“So you cannot cure a werewolf bite?” asked Harry, his index finger tapping the paragraph that he was referencing. “It makes no sense, it can be healed but the effects pass on.”

“Now you realize why some wizards prefer to be killed rather than turn into one of _them_ ,” replied Draco solemnly. “Of course, if I was bitten I would rather die than be alive with permanent scars.” He shuddered at the sheer thought.

Harry rolled his eyes but went back to the text, completely unaware that Professor Quirrell was studying him intently. The bell signalled the end of the class and the start of a clear afternoon for most first year students. He grabbed his books and hastily walked out of the class with Draco tailing behind him, he let out a sigh and turned to Draco. “Seeing as we have no lessons now, want to go get a tea or something?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Potter?” said Draco, lifting an eyebrow as he spoke the simple words. “Of course I’m inclined to accept, but we would want to go to someplace fancy.”

Harry looked at his blond friend with confusion on his face until he put it together. “No – you prat – I meant as friends!”

“You should be clearer in the future, asking one out to tea could have many hidden meanings,” Draco informed him. “But of course I’ll come, where are we going?”

Harry pursed his lips as he walked through the corridor. “I was going to suggest Hagrid, but I don’t think he likes me very much.” He kept walking until he abruptly stopped. “Maybe we could still go, I know he wouldn’t mind, but I doubt he has comfortable chairs, I dare say the dungeon floor would be more comfortable.”

“You shouldn’t speak like that, Harry. People may think you grew up in Malfoy Manor,” said Draco, letting out a very soft half laugh. “Although, I can assure you that you pretty much did, you even have a room there!”

“Of course I do, I love the Malfoy Manor. Spending time in the gardens with your mother is my favourite pastime, except maybe of course beating you in Quidditch,” Harry smiled at the glare he got, it was all he needed to raise his spirits. “You’ve beaten me plenty of times, don’t be so sour about it.”

“Forget the tea,” snapped Draco. “Let’s just go read in the library – or we could stalk the Golden Trio!” He paused and lowered his voice. “Look! They’re coming over here.”

“Who is the Golden Trio?”

“Granger, Longbottom and Weasley. That’s the Golden Trio,” said Draco with a sneer. “Honestly, the three of them couldn’t be any more useless than they are.”

“So?” said Harry bluntly. “Are we going to follow them?”

“Yes of course, come,” said Draco instantly and dragged Harry along with him at a good distance away from the Golden Trio.

Harry and Draco stalked them for a little and followed them out towards Hagrid’s Hut, which Draco made a fuss about. The Golden Trio seemed to be talking about inconsequential matters, mainly berating Professor Snape for taking so many points from Gryffindor and putting them into negatives on the first day. It caused both the Slytherins to laugh about it and slink closer to them to hear what they were discussing better.

“Oh great, just great… they went into that hut! How can anyone even live in a building that small? My wardrobe is bigger than that thing.”

“I guess we could follow them in, or something,” suggested Harry, his tone set in one of boredom. “I doubt they’ll openly talk about what we want them to. However, Lucius taught me some good conversation manoeuvring.”

“My own father taught you before he taught me,” said Draco with a scowl and knocked on the large door. The instant that door swung open he got a look into the house, if you could even call it that, and frowned. He was about to berate the house but then Harry began to speak, so he just stood there quietly, mentally listing faults with the interior design on the house – hut – whatever it is.

“Hello, Hagrid, Draco and I wanted to spend our free time with you, having tea, is that alright?” said Harry in a polite tone. Before Hagrid could even object, he was speaking again. “I hope you don’t, it’s a long way back to the castle and we’re a little tired.” He waited until Hagrid went to speak again before he continued. “Of course my mother always praised your tea and father said that I just had to come and taste it and, of course, your amazing cakes.”

Draco then realized why his father taught Harry and not him, the words poured back into his head. Like he was standing at a memory river and it was just flowing into him.

_“No offence, Draco, but Harry’s natural talent as an Occlumens allows him to lie easier and make that lie harder to detect,” said Lucius with a slight smile._

_“I know, father, It’s just that I – never mind,” muttered Draco and looked somewhat sadly at the far wall._

_“I’ll be teaching you Occlumency, your mother may assist, when you turn twelve. It’ll be done in the summer before your second year, that way you’re prepared for life. Most children aren’t taught Occlumency until around the age of seventeen, even then hardly any grasp it, but you’re a Malfoy, and you’ll get it much quicker than anyone else.”_

_“What about Harry, father?” said Draco, his eyes slightly wide. “Will you be teaching him also?”_

_“Harry is a natural Occlumens,” said Lucius calmly. “He doesn’t have to study that in order to learn the skill, he had it ever since he was born. If what Severus says is correct, the boy is also a natural Legilimens, but that one should be kept a secret.”_

_“Will Harry be teaching me?”_

_“No, as a natural Occlumens, his methods will be different and will most likely lead you astray.”_

_“Yes father, I understand.”_

_“Once you learn the talent, you’ll be able to lie as well as what Harry can, if not better.”_

The memory of the conversation between father and son quickly faded away as quickly as it came and Draco quickly found a seat that he could sit down on, which was next to Harry, lest he want to be attacked by the giant oaf. He watched as Harry tucked the small piece of cake, which looked to be harder than the walls of the wooden hut. His grey eyes drifted towards the Golden Trio and watched as Granger claimed that she wasn’t hungry, but Weasley and Longbottom took the cakes, eventually taking them every time they were asked if they wanted one.

He turned and briefly met Harry’s eyes, which was the quick indication that his friend was prodding around in his memories, most likely hunting for something. He always knew that he was the smarter one of them when it came to scheming. He knew that Harry was gentle in his attempts to use Legilimency on you, it was like a snake was coiling through your mind, highly careful on what it touched, not wanting to break anything, but at the same time it had aggression and terror to it that made you want to avoid it and just leave it alone, in case it was untamed and struck at you.

“Do you happen to have a copy of the Daily Prophet today?” asked Harry in a slightly happy tone of voice. He let his eyes roam to the handmade table of to the side, which held a copy of the Daily Prophet. “Ah, you do. May I read it?”

“Sure, go ‘head,” said Hagrid in his usual tone before turning to the three Gryffindors. “Neville, Ron, ‘Mione, would yer like more cakes?”

Harry ignored the conversation and scanned the paper for what he was looking for, he was sure that it’d be in here somewhere. “Hmm,” he said and flicked the paper straight. “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” asked Draco curiously as he had no idea what Harry was talking about. He leaned over and began reading the paper.

_ GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST _

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts’ goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Draco looked puzzled but caught Harry’s look. “That’s fascinating, someone robbed Grin –”

“Hagrid!” interrupted Neville. He had a conflicted look on his face as he spoke. “The Gringotts break-in happened the day you and I went there! It might’ve happened while we were there.”

Harry forced the victorious smirk that threatened to appear downwards. Be able to bait the idiot wasn’t an accomplishment, it was far too easy. He allowed their eyes to meet instantly and plunged as smoothly as possible into Neville’s mind. Being able to do Legilimency wandlessly and nonverbally was a massive boon, not that he’d ever tell someone, this must remain a secret, lest he get I trouble for it.

_Harry stood just behind Longbottom as the door to the Longbottom vault slowly opened, allowing a rather small amount of crimson smoke to fill out of it. It was of course, one of the more lacklustre defences, which would confuse any intruder that thought they could get into the vault. A potion to counter the smoke was made first, and then the Bubble-Head Charm was invented and this particular defence was pointless._

_“Step back!” said the goblin angrily, banishing the smoke when he noticed that the boy wasn’t effected at all._

_Harry watched as the money was explained, which was custom with each visit and then as the boy in question filled a small bag with a large handful of Galleons, enough to pay for three years of supplies for Hogwarts, at least. Of course he took this time to glance around the Longbottom vault, which wasn’t as impressive as the Potter vault. The Longbottom’s put a lot of their money into Dumbledore’s little army to stop the Dark Lord. The Potter’s weren’t as stupid, thankfully._

_He was suddenly being tugged behind Longbottom as they got back into the cart and it zoomed away. There was a limit in how far he could stay away from the memory, and he decided that it would be wise if he were to not attempt to break it, not wanting to break Neville’s mind, not that anyone would care, the boy never used it._

_He stepped onto the platform, just behind Longbottom and glanced at the door, which held nothing that would indicate that it was nothing less than a wall. He watched curiously as the goblin pressed his finger and the door simply vanished, he knew instantly that it could only be opened by Gringotts staff, anyone else would either die or be trapped somewhere. He was one hundred percent sure that something really extraordinary had to be inside this top-security vault. He followed Neville in who appeared to be leaning forward, his thoughts screamed jewels or treasures. He could only see what Neville saw and all he saw was a grubby little bag. He watched as Hagrid picked it up and put it in his coat._

_“Come on, back in this cart, an’ don’t yeh talk on the way back, its best if I keep my mouth shut,” bellowed Hagrid, his hands clenched tightly onto the cart._

Harry pulled from the memory and cursed in his head, what a waste of time, considering all he learned was that Hagrid had taken a small grubby package from vault seven hundred and thirteen. He pondered his thoughts for a minute and then decided he could use this knowledge, he didn’t bother to look at Neville again. If Neville was smart he would question why the sudden memory of him visiting that vault sprang to his mind.

Neville jolted upright. “Sorry! I thought something was – never mind.”

Harry eyed Neville suspiciously. “I wonder who that vault belonged to.”

“It doesn’t really concern us,” said Hermione. “Besides, what interest do you have in Gringotts?”

“You mean aside from the fact my trust vault is near vault seven hundred and thirteen,” said Harry calmly. “Plus a vault that far down would require an official Gringotts employee, I assume the vault was simply emptied and then covered up to appear as it was broken into. After all, no one has ever broken into Gringotts.”

“That makes sense,” muttered Draco and turned to Neville. “You were there, didn’t you see anything?”

“Nothin’ at all!” Hagrid instantly replied.

“Draco, your father was talking about a side vault for donations; maybe he could pick up that vault for cheaper, seeing as it was already supposedly broken into,” suggested Harry. “I’m sure your father could drastically improve the security on it anyway.”

“Indeed, now we just need to find out who the vault owned to and suggest they part for a better vault,” said Draco while glancing at Hagrid. “Plus he dislikes the riffraff of the carts going down so far, a vault that high up would be a blessing for both father and mother, even if it was just for donations.”

Harry smiled and then glanced at Draco. “I wonder if I –”

“Enough talk of Gringotts!” bellowed Ron. “I don’t care if you two are Slytherins. Snape –”

“Professor Snape,” corrected Harry.

“Fine! _Professor_ Snape is a git! He cannot assign me detention for what happened!” Ron almost shouted. His face turned a slight red. “I mean that on the board it said not to help anyone but your partner, he then punished Hermione for not helping!”

Harry rolled his eyes and tuned it out. In a sense if he was on the receiving end of that abuse he would have wanted to rant to the world as well, but as the fates have it, he wasn’t and isn’t. Still, he knew that how Professor Snape had treated the Gryffindors was unfair; in fact he saw all their faults in the lesson, such as blowing up a cauldron, when it said on the board what to do? That’s not an excuse. Every professor teaches differently, some are forceful land others are calm. Still, he didn’t want to sit here and listen to Ronald Weasley moan about Professor Snape.

“I guess that’s why I dislike him!” Ron finished his rant. “I hope he stops bullying Gryffindors though, especially Neville.”

“We better get going,” said Harry and stood. “It’s getting late and we have homework to do. It was a pleasant visit, Hagrid.”

“Indeed, we will see you at another time,” said Draco standing.

“Oh, Weasley,” said Harry, stopping at the door. “It’s not wise to put food in your pockets, Weasley. I suggest you remove those rock cakes and actually eat them instead of stashing them in your robes.”

Ronald winced and looked down at the ground for a while before looking back up; he heard the laughter of the two Slytherins as they left the little hut that Hagrid lived in. He wasn’t sure how he would get out of this one. “We were – uh – saving them for later – yeah – later – like at night when we got hungry.”

“Yeah, your rock cakes are really nice,” said Neville while nervously shifting. “What do you think Harry and Malfoy came down here for?”

“Most likely to prod around that vault, seven hundred and thirteen, maybe they want whatever was in it,” suggested Hermione with a slight lift of her chin. “It was lucky they didn’t figure it out this time, but they will keep trying.”

“Oy, yer right, ‘Mione,” said Hagrid while tending to his dog.

“There’s a good reason that Slytherin starts with _sly_ ,” muttered Ron.

“You best watch yourself, Hagrid,” said Hermione in a concerned tone of voice. “They could come back.”

“Yer can never be trustin’ a Slytherin, always be up to something.”

“Harry isn’t that bad,” said Hermione. “He shared treats with this boy named Terry Boot and of course Rosier and even gave me some.” She didn’t even mention that he expected something in return for it. “Just because he’s in Slytherin doesn’t make him bad or dishonourable.”

“He’s still a snake, a slimy snake.”

“Ronald!” said Hermione in a tone of defeat. “He doesn’t go around and bully people, he just sticks to himself. From what I have seen he just speaks to the Slytherin Prefect, Malfoy and Rosier.”

“From what dad told me, it’s the fact that Slytherins always have another reason for doing what they do,” said Ron smugly. “Even when Harry was a lot younger, everything he did was for his own gain.”

“You knew him before Hogwarts?” asked Hermione, slightly leaning forward in anticipation to hear the tale of how the three of them knew each other.

Neville shifted a little nervously in his seat, the pile of rock cakes weighing down one side of his robe. He wondered if he should tell Hermione about Harry. It’d be a good thing if she knew, as she was his friend and he treated all his friends with complete truth and respect. He was about to explain it when Ron muttered something.

“I didn’t quite understand that,” said Hermione, frowning. “Could you repeat it?”

“I said that Potter is odd, weird, a freak! He plays with snakes, spiders and various other creatures that could kill people!” muttered Ron, his voice only slightly clearer than before. “Not to mention some of the books that he reads. Dad says some of them are considered to be dark magic and that he gets really into it.”

“That’s ridiculous, Ron, his father is the Head Auror.”

“Harry cares very little, Hermione,” said Ron. “You know, I once heard mum and dad talking in the kitchen, it was late at night and I wanted a glass of water. Mum said that Potter used offensive spells as accidental magic, unlike most, who do defensive magic.”

“From what I heard from Harry’s mum most of Harry’s accidental magic was to do with books or when he was frightened,” interrupted Neville, tilting his head slightly in thought. “When he was about seven he had a nightmare and demolished the sitting room.”

“He destroyed an entire room?” asked Hermione disbelievingly. “How did he do that?”

“Clearly it was dark magic,” said Ron instantly.


	9. The Commencement of a Petty Thief

_Old Name_ : Clairvoyance

 _New Name_ : The Commencement of a Petty Thief

 _Rewritten_ : 02/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

“Come on, Theodore!” said Harry in a slightly whiny voice. “We’re going to investigate the third-floor corridor and then we’ll uncover the reason why it’s apparently –”

“Why it was called forbidden,” interrupted Draco, causing Harry to pout at him. “You were almost shouting the plan to the entire common room, Harry.”

“How’d you coax the hat into placing you into Slytherin?”

“Be quiet, Rosy,” hissed Harry, glaring. “You heard what the hat said, I was destined for this house and I will not have your jealousy ruining my adventure into the third-floor corridor by insinuating that I am a Gryffindor.”

“Insinuating?” questioned Rosier. “Have you been reading a dictionary again, Harry?”

Harry said nothing but glared at Rosier.

“As much as I hate agreeing with Rosier, I think he’s right,” said Theodore from next to Draco. “We’ve been here for what, three days and you’re already trying to go into places that you shouldn’t be in. You suppress all your Slytherin traits and replace them with Gryffindor traits.”

“HEY!” shouted Harry, his facial expression set in a betrayed look. “I find that very, very, very offensive. I’m clearly not going there to find trouble or even anything like that. I simply assumed that you lot would be intelligent enough to notice my plan when I mentioned it.”

“Oh?”

“We clearly investigate the third-floor corridor and then let it slip to the headmaster that we know what’s going on and then he’ll give us points for out silence. Maybe we’d even get a trophy or something!”

“The outcome is Slytherin, but the entire plan is Gryffindor,” said Theodore with a laugh. “Why not manipulate others into doing it then take the credit?”

“I am doing that,” said Harry fondly, a wide smirk on his lips. “You actually though that I was going with you? Oh, Theodore, you’re so silly sometimes.”

“We’ve already left the common room and we’re almost at the third-floor, Harry.”

“Of course, I have to come to protect you.”

Draco yawned and was quickly hushed by Harry.

“Be quiet,” said Harry in a whisper. “If you bring Filch onto us, not even Merlin will save you from my wrath.”

Theodore laughed, of course it was a hushed laugh.

“Theodore!”

“Stop calling me Theodore! I swear, if you keep going I’ll call you the name that you hate.”

“What’s the name that Harry hates?” asked Draco softly, ignoring that fact that Harry turned his glare onto him. “I’m serious! He calls me by my full name when he’s angry or annoyed with me and if I call him his full name he just laughs about it.”

Theodore smirked and turned towards Harry with a facial expression that said that the deepest secrets were going to be revealed. The smirk fell from his face when he saw the look that Harry was giving him. It must have been the light, because he swore that Harry’s eyes darkened slightly, as if he was to slay the next person he saw.

It was a look that could have frozen water.

The four of them continued up the corridors silently, of course Rosier was humming a soft tune that was unrecognizable, most likely foreign. The four boys were huddled together, not wanting to walk spread across the corridor. It was simpler this way and allowed for easy escapes. They reached the Grand Staircase and frowned when all the steps to the third-floor corridor vanished, blocking access to the said corridor.

“We’ll have to take the long way around,” said Theodore helpfully. “It’ll take the same amount of time, but I heard that Filch patrols it regularly.”

“I believe this was your plan all along, Theo,” said Harry, staring. “Wanting us to take the more dangerous path, pretty Gryffindor of you, Theo. Suddenly this peaceful walk that the four of us begin comes one filled with traps, enemies and danger, which is clearly Theo’s forte.”

“You’re insane.”

“Perhaps we should just call it a night,” suggested Harry, peering around a corner. “I mean, the third-floor corridor isn’t going anywhere.”

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”

“Good job, Theo,” sneered Harry. “Your night of danger just wasn’t enough, so you had to invite Filch and his cat along.”

“This was your idea.”

“You’ll never learn from your mistakes if you push them onto others, Theo.”

“What about your mistakes, Harry?”

“I am perfect and don’t make mistakes.”

Draco shook his head decided to take control of the small group before they caught. “Follow me,” he whispered and scurried slightly towards a door that appeared to be the furthest away from Filch’s voice.

The group barely made it from the vacant corridor when they heard the door into it open.

“They’re in here somewhere,” the voice echoed throughout the rooms. “They’re most likely hiding.”

The four of them instantly picked up speed, no longer caring if their footsteps attracted attention. The sound of footsteps and some panting could have been heard from the other side of the castle. They entered a long gallery full of various looking suits of armour. No matter how fast they ran, or how many corridors they turned they could hear Filch just behind them.

Harry was furious at how hard it appeared to be to lose Filch, it was ridiculous.

When he turned to see if the three others were still following him, he saw Theodore doing the same and watched as the boy ran straight into a set of armour.

The sound of armour crashing into the floor and the headpiece spinning before slowly stopping was a humour sight, but Harry didn’t waste effort in laughing, instead he instantly scolded the boy for his idiocy. “Clearly your Gryffindor-ish adventure wasn’t enough, so you decided to bring the entire castle here, hmm?”

Theodore muttered under his breath and climbed out from the pile of armour.

“It wasn’t that funny!” snapped Harry, glaring at Rosier, who was snickering. A sudden voice, the voice that belonged to Filch and a meowing of a cat, filled the room. “Come on, hurry up! This way.”

The four of them instantly began to run again when the voice sounded as if it were just mere inches behind them. They sprinted down the gallery, stealth was simply out of the question after Theodore ran into it. None of them looked back to see if Filch was following – they swung around a doorpost and galloped down another corridor, and then another.

Harry took the lead of the small group; of course, he had no idea where they were even going. He caught sight of a tapestry and pushed it aside and slid in, thinking it was an enclave of some sorts. They realized it was another corridor, except hidden, maybe this was how Filch was keeping up with them.

Harry glanced at the twin doors that were in front of them. “What door – left or right?”

“Right seems like the better choice,” said Theodore, ignoring Draco’s snort.

“Left,” said Rosier straight after. “Trust me, it’s left.”

“Theodore needs to redeem himself after running into that suit of armour, so right it is.”

“You’re never going to let him forget that, are you, Harry?”

“Of course not,” said Harry. He opened the left door, leaving it slightly ajar. He then led them through the right door and closed it behind them. “That way he goes the wrong way.”

“So Slytherin of you, Harry.”

Harry watched as the door they just entered through vanished. “What?”

Draco turned, his eyes widened when he realized what Harry was raving on about. He promptly tugged Harry and Theodore along with him, the latter tugging Rosier. The torches of the corridor lit up as they walked past and then darkened when no one was near them.

“This is ridiculous,” stated Harry with a sigh. “Let’s just go back to the Slytherin common room.”

They took around four steps when a nearby doorknob rattled almost tauntingly. Each of them prayed to whatever deity they could think of that it wasn’t Filch. One it’d be twenty points each for being outside of the common room after curfew. Then more for being in the forbidden corridor and then it’d be a week worth of detention. They would lose seventy percent of Slytherin’s points if they were caught.

The burst open and Peeves, the resident Poltergeist happily appeared in the room, tutting them as if he were a mother before giving a slight squeal of delight at the rare opportunity.

“Peeves, thank Merlin it’s you,” began Draco, letting out a sigh of relief.

Peeves cackled. “Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please,” said Theodore, eyes wide.

“Should tell Filch, I should!” said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Get out of the way!” snapped Draco, taking a small swipe at the poltergeist.

“Draco!” hissed Harry.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED, STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” bellowed Peeves as loudly as he could. “STUDENTS OUT OF BED, THEY’RE DOWN IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

Harry, still glaring, ducked under Peeves and ran down the corridor, aware that the other three were following him as he did so. He ran towards the end of the corridor, they slammed into a door, which was closed and unsurprisingly – it was locked.

It was no doubt Peeves’ doing.

“This is it!” moaned Draco, glancing between the corridor and the door. He shoved roughly, which was far from Malfoy like, against the door. “We’re done for now! Outcasts! This is the end!”

The footsteps drew closer and closer towards them.

“Do you have to be so dramatic?” asked Harry as he pulled out his wand, tapping it against the lock. “Alohomora!”

They only just managed to get in the room and close it when Filch was in front of him.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?” said Filch quickly. “Quick tell me!”

“Say _please_.”

“Don’t mess me about, Peeves, now where did they go?”

“Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please!” said Peeves in his annoying sing-song voice.

Filch sighed. “All right – please.”

“NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn’t say nothing if you didn’t say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!” The sound of Peeves whooshing away filled the area and then of course the sound of Filch cursing.

“He thinks that the door is locked,” whispered Harry. “I think we should be safe in here.” He turned around and his mouth dropped wide open. For a moment, he was sure he’d walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

He was looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog which filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads, three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren’t already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. He groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, he’d take Filch.

The four of them ran out of the room – they fell backwards against the door, attempting to shut it against one of the dog’s snouts. Once the door was shut they ran back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else because they didn’t see him anywhere, but they hardly cared – all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn’t stop running until they reached the blank wall in the dungeons, which of course was the snake and hissed at them disapprovingly.

Harry of course understood the hiss, the snake had some nerve to call them morons. He glared at the snake angrily. He had the right frame of mind to abuse it.

The engraving of the snake lifted its head curiously at the green-eyed boy, studying him silently. “ **Judging by your expression, I dare say that you can understand me** ,” it hissed quietly. The other three made movement, but the green-eyed one gave a discreet nod. “ **Your nest mates cannot, I assume?** **The protector of the nest is displeased with the actions of you three younglings**.”

Harry almost snorted when the snake mentioned that Professor Snape was the protector of the nest. Of course, it was essentially correct, if Nagini taught him anything about snakes and how they acted it was pretty obvious.

“Aconite,” said Rosier, having enough of just standing there.

The stone wall vanished and behind it was a furious looking Professor Snape.

Professor Snape turned to Theodore Nott and Rosier. “Mr. Nott, you may go to bed, you’re not needed. You to, Mr. Rosier.”

The two in question quickly left with a concerned look.

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, follow me.”

Harry trotted along with Draco behind Professor Snape, both looking at the floor rather than the professor leading them to almost certain doom. He was aware that most of the sixth and seventh years would be awake, but he had hoped they wouldn’t be in the common room. Luck was on his side however, as Professor Snape led them to his office and not through the common room. In most sense he was glad that Theo and Rosier didn’t get in any trouble.

He sat down in the chair he was offered, which so happened to be next to Draco and across from Professor Snape. “Sir, to be completely honest, Draco has no real need to be here, he did nothing wrong.”

Professor Snape lent back in his chair and glanced between the two of them. “And pray do tell why you think I called you both here _that_ reason? I went to your beds to retrieve you about thirty minutes ago and your beds were vacant.”

“Why did you call us here then?”

“Some of my potion ingredients have been taken, as you’re aware I keep a tally on them,” said Professor Snape in a drawl. “As of now, Mr. Potter you stole ingredients from my personal stores. How you got in is why you’re here now.”

“Neither of us has touched your personal stores,” said Harry rather defensively. “Maybe you misplaced the ingredients?”

Professor Snape thrust the parchment which had names and dates of anyone who attempted to enter it. “You are the only person since I began here to breach my wards and steal from me, Mr. Potter! Since I know no one has taught you any advanced spells to breach wards, you must have used another way to enter my storeroom. I want to know how!”

“I didn’t breach your wards –”

“You did!” interrupted Professor Snape. “It’s here on this paper! Look at it!”

Harry didn’t look at the paper. “Could be forged.”

“You stole from me, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape in an icy tone. “I know what you took, when you took it and when the ward around my personal stores was breached, just not how.”

Draco watched as accusations flied between both, of course he knew that Harry was leaving his bed at night, but assumed it was to go to the bathroom. Honestly, he didn’t follow Harry like a dog. Of course it was now the fourth night here and if Harry had already stolen things than he was in a world of trouble. “I hate to interrupt, but why am I here?” He flinched when they both turned to him.

Professor Snape looked at Draco curiously for a moment. “You’re here to escort Mr. Potter back to the common room when he finally admits to stealing –”

Harry spun his head around to glare at Professor Snape. “I did not STEAL YOUR BLOODY INGREDIENTS!” After yelling so loud, his throat slightly hurt, but he kept on. “I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU SEEM TO ACCUSE ME FOR IT!”

“Please refrain from screeching at me, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape silkily. “I had no idea that you were a female and not a male, perhaps I should shift you into the girls’ dormitory.”

“Shut up!”

“It is right here on the parchment,” said Professor Snape, ignoring the attitude. “Just look.”

“As I said before, I didn’t steal them.”

Professor Snape glanced at Harry, and then to Draco and finally back to Harry. “Alright then, it’s getting late. We will talk about this at a later date,” he turned to Draco. “Take him back to the Slytherin common room and make sure he sleeps.”

Draco needed slightly and directed Harry from the room and towards the Slytherin common room, which wasn’t that far away. He wasn’t aware that his friend was clenching his eyes shut, nor the fact that his friend was rubbing his temple as if he had a rather powerful headache at the moment.

Professor Snape lent back into his chair the moment the two boys left, frowning, he wondered how the boy was getting past his wards as they were his biggest accomplishment to date, besides his mastery in potions. He had undeniable evidence that the boy was breaking into his personal stores. The boy was actually adept at potions, so he doubted that the boy was selling the ingredients off to other Slytherins or even the other houses, but that didn’t answer any questions that he had.

The worst thing was that the boy was claiming that he wasn’t taking anything, as if he had no idea that he was doing it.

Perhaps it was time to up his security, something he hadn’t done in a few years.

But first, he would have to write up a report and mention this to the headmaster, not that he really wanted to do that at all.


	10. The Nightly Escapades of a Petty Thief

_Old Name_ : Revelations

 _New Name_ : The Nightly Escapades of a Petty Thief

 _Rewritten_ : 03/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry walked towards the Slytherin common room with Draco, he wondered why he couldn’t just use the door that went straight into the first-year boys’ dormitory, but never questioned it out loud. Thankfully Draco never noticed that he was in pain, mainly because he disguised it as simple tiredness, as if it were that simple. No questions would be asked unless Draco decided that he would pay attention to the mannerisms of him, then it’d be fine and he’d be able to get in bed and hope that it goes away.

They stepped into the common room, which was currently vacant, thank Merlin, and walked towards their dormitory.

“Goodnight Harry,” said Draco, smiling like a lunatic. He walked towards his bed, presumably to get changed for the night.

Harry smiled and simply mouthed it to his friend, not wanting to wake up the other boys in the room, even though half of them snore most of the night. He repeated Draco’s action and quickly made for his bed, stepping over a pair of Rosier’s shoes along the way. He let out a very soft sigh and glanced up at the green canopy that was hung loosely over the top of his bed. He couldn’t even drift off to sleep, the throb that was pulsating at the side of his head was too much of a distraction and far too known for him to fall asleep to.

After an hour of tossing and turning, he finally kicked off the sheets and made for the dormitory door, gently pushing it open and slipping into the room silently. He spotted the wall that allowed him to leave the common room, and quickly left, ignoring the warning hiss from the snake engraving.

He walked slowly up the dungeon corridors, not wanting to run into a Prefect along the way or Filch. He quickly made his way towards the potion labs, one off to the side that wasn’t sued, at least from what he had gathered about the room, as it was lined with dust. He found his table and promptly tapped it in a pattern four times and smiled when his cauldron appeared, still under the Stasis Charm that he had placed on it.

He hated brewing in the open, but it’d have to do until he could go home and get his little trunk of potions that he had prepared.

Sitting down in a nearby chair, which he had just dragged over, he began to wait until the next step of the potion was ready. The potion wasn’t very hard to make, in fact it hardly took any time at all and could be left in stasis for long periods of time without it being effected, which was by far the most unique trait of the potion.

His head shot up some minutes later and he made a mad dash towards the cupboard where he had stashed the ingredients he had taken from Professor Snape.

* * *

Severus had barely just finished marking the last essay by the third-years, which all were terrible and clearly copied straight from the textbook. Some had the talent to do potions, but must were complete dunderheads and lacked the ability to brew even the simplest of potions. It was barely two minutes later when he heard to ping of one of his wards being triggered. He leaned forward and looked at the paper which revealed that it was none other than Harry Potter who left the Slytherin common room.

Smirking, he stood up and disillusioned himself and quickly strode from the room, his robes invisibly billowed as he strode up the hallway. His office was only forty-five seconds away from the Slytherin common room, twenty if you ran, so it took him very little time to reach the black-haired bow who was walking with his hand rubbing his forehead.

He followed Potter down each corridor as the boy weaved into a particular unused section of the dungeons. This surprised him, quite a bit, as no one normally drifted here and the fact that Potter found it on his fourth day in the castle was an accomplishment. Placing a charm on his feet, so they made no noise he quickly entered the classroom that the boy went into.

The best thing about magic was that each classroom had a connected ingredient storage, each room held the exact same ingredients which were stocked from his office. When you grabbed an ingredient, you were grabbing it from his office, complicated to explain, but highly useful. One, it stopped theft because it was easier to ward from one room rather than multiple, meaning the ward was stronger. Two, maintaining one storage area was easier than five or six.

Severus’ smirk grey wide when he learned that he would soon figure out how the boy was getting through the ward and being able to take ingredients freely, as it was locked after lesson time to stop this kind of thing.

He didn’t give away his position just yet, but he was aware that Potter’s eyes fell on him for a split second and then towards the door. He lent against the wall quietly and observed what Potter was doing. He was aware that Potter continued in potions, but he couldn’t grasp why the boy would need to make a potion that no one else knew about it. Of course, the Slytherin side of Potter was to be appreciated when it wasn’t his stores that were being raided for the potion for that side to become active.

It became rather interesting when he noticed the boy tapping the desk in a pattern four times and a cauldron to appear. He couldn’t help but be surprised, seeing as the boy’s hand went through the cauldron when he was tapping. He really wanted to take a step closer and observe the potion, he tried his hardest to inspect it without moving, but more than once he felt Potter’s eyes fall on him or near him with suspicion filling the dulled green-eyes. Of course this did not deter Severus in one moment, especially when some moments later the boy in question stood and dashed towards the storeroom.

He took his time to shift across in position to see exactly what Potter did to his wards to gain access, eleven years, that’s how long he has worked for Hogwarts, and not once has a student ever came close to breaking them and somehow Potter comes and within four days demolishes them.

Severus now had a perfect view of Potter and his wards, which were visible, of course they were, it added to the fact that made people stay away from them. It was more of an intimidation tactic than anything a she was capable of making transparent wards. He interrupted his own musing and went back to watching Potter, who now had his wand out and was studying the wards with keen interest.

‘Checking to see if I changed them,’ thought Severus, watching. ‘Deserves some praise for that.’

He watched as Potter gave a tiny smirk and waved his wand over the ward, a small trail of black poured from the tip of his wand and created a circle in the ward that allowed Potter to stick his hand in and grab what was needed.

‘That’s it?’ thought Severus in a bitter tone, surely that couldn’t be all the boy was doing. ‘Doesn’t even say anything, just waves his wand and gets access.’

While the ward didn’t collapse, instead a small hole was present I nit, which was held open by the dark mist.

Severus scowled at the entire situation. How was an eleven year old casting dark magic that most adults cannot do? He knew that if he didn’t follow Potter he wouldn’t have known his ward had even been touched, as he got no alert in his head about it. Ward breaking is highly taxing and requires years of study, yet it was done as if the boy had done it the moment he was born.

He watched as Potter gave a way and the black mist slowly retreated and the ward corrected itself.

He pondered that for a while and didn’t notice that Potter was adding things into the potion.

The ingredients taken weren’t all that expensive, in fact they were cheap compared to what was in there. He already knew that the boy wasn’t selling them off to the side, and if he was then he would be in deep trouble for it. Clearly the boy was brewing a potion and he assumed that perhaps he could sue this to get a little closer to the boy, either with assisting or keying him into the wards so he didn’t have to steal constantly.

Of course he would have to talk to Dumbledore about this, no matter the relationship with students, whether good or bad things like this had to be reported as quickly as possible. It may be possible to make a cover story if he can just learn what the blasted potion is. He had no such luck so he stayed leant up against the wall in a pose that would have the students laughing at him, which was far from acceptable.

* * *

Harry was able to take down the ward with ease, as it hadn’t changed from what it was previously. The spell that he used wasn’t a ward-breaking spell, it was rather different, instead of temporarily allowed access, not destroying the ward at all. The spell was probably a dark spell, which hardly bothered him as he already learned that the bias against the dark arts was skewed in more ways than one.

He cleared his mind fully, pushing the pain in his head, which had since ceased throbbing so badly since he began brewing the potion, as if it new that he was working on it, out of his mind and counted to four before slowly adding the Angel’s Trumpet, which was by far the hardest step of the potion. The fear of said ingredient being pushed straight from his mind as he slowly stored the potion, watching the Angel’s Trumpet slowly dissolve. He leant over and examined the potion, almost laughing when he realized that it was the same colour as Weasley’s hair.

He would pay Professor Snape back when he could, he just needed to get some money from his mother and claim it was for something. ‘Maybe I should go to father, say it’s for a prank or something,’ he thought and a smile crept along his lips as he nodded, accepting that plan. He reached over the table and grabbed the silver knife, gently holding it in his right hand. He slipped the pearly-white bean, which just so happened to be a sopophorous bean and placed it on the table; he carefully crushed the bean and then instantly tipped the juice into the potion.

The potion bubbled beautifully and he smiled when it was almost done. At home it wouldn’t have taken this long to brew, but of course he had to improvise and sneak around the school at night to get the ingredients. He lazily threw in the porcupine quills that were required in the second last stage and he sat back, once again looking around the room to see if anything was off with the room, which he figured there wasn’t. He spared another glance into the cauldron and saw that the potion was now forming into a slightly pure black colour, which excited him to no amount. He finally stopped his excitement and took a whiff of the potion; the smell of blueberries filled his nose.

Harry dashed over towards the sinks and washed the knife, as well as the other potions ingredients and neatly packed them away. He pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write hastily.

_Dear ~~Severus~~ Professor Snape_

_I’m ~~terribly~~ sorry that I ~~did some misdirection~~ acted like a perfect Slytherin about the potion ingredients. Of course, if I simply told you there and then, Draco would have got curious and then I would have had to explain it to him as well as you. I promise that I’ll replace each any ingredient that I’ve taken. I’ll also clean up any mess that I have made as I am not stupid and I know how to handle potion clean-ups._

_I’d much rather that I don’t have to serve detention, as I am aiming for a spotless record, which is my lifelong dream and I’ll not have it tarnished because of a ~~petty~~ reason like this. Please don’t take any points from Slytherin, it’s not fair to punish an entire house for the actions of one (by that I mean something that is hardly worth taking points for). I ~~know~~ have read Hogwarts: A History by heart, honestly, and know what happens if a student is caught stealing from a professor, as it was explained in chapter one-hundred and seventeen. If this gets me expelled then I’ll just go to Durmstrang like I wanted. I’m sure Draco will make do over the years. I’ve always wanted to go to Durmstrang, simply because it’s the best Wizarding School in the world. Hogwarts may be legendary and previously one of the best, but over the recent years, it has lost its touch._

_Hogwarts is, in its current state, laughable ~~Severus~~ Professor Snape. If this was a decent school, we would not be learning spells that should be taught in Charms in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The professor stutters and it makes it damn near impossible to understand him. Perhaps ~~a Warming Charm would do the man some benefit or~~ getting a new professor._

_Moving on! Here’s a list of the things that I ~~took~~ borrowed from your personal stores/the ingredient cupboard. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can get money from either mother or father. Perhaps the latter, that way I don’t get yelled at._

  1. _Sopophorous Beans_
  2. _Porcupine Quills_
  3. _Angel’s Trumpet_
  4. _Shrivelfig_
  5. _Peppermint_
  6. _Wormwood_
  7. _Daisy_
  8. _Glass Phials_
  9. _Cauldron_
  10. _Silver knife_



_Kind Regards,_

_Harry James Potter_

Harry placed the note on Professor Snape’s desk and let a smile form on his lips, of course it wasn’t his best letter, but it would do and it showed the correct amount of emotion that he wanted it to, along with some funny parts and finally the things he used. He was sure that Professor Snape would tell on him in an instant, so he didn’t exactly bother to fully unpack, expecting and hoping that he would be sent away to an obvious better school. The only regret was Draco, but he already knew that Draco would make fast friends with everyone else.

He turned back towards his beautiful potion, which was nearly complete now, just a few more stirs to go, and set up the twelve phials that he had borrowed from Professor Snape. He knew that the potion could make up to fourteen phials, but it was unlikely and he used to get eleven on average. He got twelve this time and put aside one phial for the professor, as a thank you gift, of course.

Deep down he wondered how the potions master would take it but he just chuckled and placed the potion on the note with a smile and quickly evacuated the room, intent on making it back to his bed before anyone noticed his absence.

* * *

Severus watched as the boy wrote, or better defined as scribbled, on the page in a very Lily-like manner. There was crossing out of words and tapping as the letter was being written, which almost made him want to chuckle as so far he had received nothing but perfect written work from the boy.

Pulling away from those thoughts, he watched as the boy very carefully scooped up the potion into glass phials, which were previously littered over the work bench. It was done with the most care someone could do, carefully pouring the exact same amount into each phial as if an extra centimetre would ruin the phial.

He couldn’t get a good look at the colour of the potion while they were being poured, but the colouring appeared to be something he had never seen before.

Severus let out a breath when Potter left as quietly as possible, in fact he only saw the door opening and not the boy cleaning up, which surprised him at how quiet the boy can be. He broke the disillusionment charm he placed on himself and locked the door. If Potter did come back he would feel the lock being unwound and it would allow him to disillusion himself.

He took three swift steps and was sitting at his desk, glancing at the letter that Potter had written, the phial of potion slid aside for now. He grabbed both after reading and made a move to his personal quarters, he would deal with Potter later.

* * *

Harry walked very slowly towards the courtyard where the first-years were currently being taught how to fly on brooms, or at least the basis of learning how to fly. He knew he was late to the class, by about fifteen minutes and he was somewhat glad, as he was going to miss all the irrelevant things that would be explained. He already knew how to fly, not that the professor would take that excuse very well.

He instantly regret just not skipping the class entirely when he stepped into the area where the lesson was being held and everyone turned to look at him.

The professor, who had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk stared before she finally spoke. “Mr. Potter, you’re late.”

‘ _Thank you for stating the obvious_ ,’ provided Tom, helpfully.

“I’m sorry, professor,” said Harry softly, a sheepish expression on his face. “I was on my way here fifteen minutes ago, actually it was about twenty, and I was stopped when a second-year had fallen over and needed assistance, so being the noble person I am, I took her to the hospital wing.”

“That was very kind of you, Mr. Potter,” said the professor, her hawk-like eyes softened slightly. “Well, what are you all waiting for? Go stand by your broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Harry instantly realized that he disliked this professor by how she acted after he had attempted to manipulate her. Idiot woman. He moved very slowly towards the broom that had been set out for him, which was in-between Rosier and Draco.

Madam Hooch, the professor, stood at the front, glancing at each student. “Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say, ‘UP’!”

“Hey, Draco, want to ride my broom?”

“Disgusting prat.”

Rosier snorted at the exchange.

Everyone instantly shouted ‘UP’. Of course only a few people got it to work correctly.

Harry’s broom instantly snapped into his hand, he didn’t even need to say anything, he was just that good. All he had to do was wave his hand over the broom. He held his broom carefully and glanced around at the other students and their progress; Hermione Granger’s had simply rolled over on the ground and Neville’s snapped into his hand shortly after Harry’s did, Harry knew this instantly because of the training his father gave Neville Longbottom. After about twenty minutes of students yelling ‘UP’, one student didn’t have a broom in hand.

He watched with a slight smirk as none other than Ronald Weasley attempted to summon the broom, his face going a hint of red as he screamed at his broom. “What’s wrong, Weasley, can’t get it up?”

The boys in the class roared with laughter, even the Gryffindors joined in. The girls on the other hand were clueless, besides the professor, who had a scowl on her face.

“Shut up, Potter!” bellowed Ron, turning to glare at the broomstick which had failed to snap into his hand. “UP!” he roared at the broom stick. It finally snapped upwards, just not into Weasley’s hand.

The sound of wood hitting into flesh and bones breaking filled the courtyard.

Harry had watched the exchange with a gleam in his eyes, knowing that the boy would fail. But he never expected the boy to injure Longbottom in the process.

“Oh Merlin, Neville – I’m so sorry!” said Ron as he looked at his friend. “Here, I’ll help you!”

Neville was face down on the grass, blood trickling from his nose. He groaned and kept his eyes shut.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. “Oh dear, oh dear – broken nose – oh dear – stop that,” she muttered loudly. “Come on, boy – it’s all right, up you get!” She turned to the class, her hawk-like eyes falling on each student. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say _Quidditch_. Come on, dear.”

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his nose, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter. “Did you see his face, the great lump?” He turned to Harry. “That was glorious!”

Harry snickered and glanced at the other Slytherins, who were joining in with the laughter. “Good job, Weasley!”

“Shut up, Potter!” snapped Parvati Patil.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy Parkinson almost instantly. “I never thought you’d like fat little cry-babies, Parvati.”

Harry wasn’t sure at which girl shocked him more, Parvati Patil or Pansy Parkinson. The former’s father was good friends with his own and the latter never spoke to him. “Longbottom only managed to summon his broom because he was taught by my father.”

“Look!” said Draco, darting forwards and snatching something out of the grass. “It’s that stupid thing that Longbottom’s gran sent him.” The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

“Give that here, Malfoy!” said Ron with a demanding tone. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco smiled. “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about on the roof?” he mounted his broom and flew around the students before flying into the sky and leisurely glancing around. “Well, are you going to stop me or just sit there smacking your broom into other student’s faces?”

When Ron mounted his broom, Hermione was instantly at his side. “You heard what Madam Hooch said – besides, you don’t even know how to fly!” she watched as the redheaded boy took off. “What. An. Idiot!”

Harry wasted no time in joining the impromptu Quidditch match using something that belonged to Neville. He got on his broom and flew off into the air. He caught the Remembrall that went a little bit to the left; he instantly hurled it over Ron’s head and smirked. He saw the Remembrall flying straight towards Ron, he dashed under Ron and straight upwards, catching the little ball with his left hand as he looped over Ron and caught sight of none other than Professor Snape.

Severus walked onto the field, looking for Madam Hooch, when he couldn’t see her he turned straight upwards at the two Slytherins and one Gryffindor in the sky. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley. Get your feet back on the ground this instant!” he waited for the three of them to land on the ground; he rounded his eyes on the two Slytherins. “Where is Madam Hooch?”

Hermione turned to face the irate potions master. “Madam Hooch took Neville to the infirmary, he hurt –”

“Five points from Gryffindor!” snarled Professor Snape. “I do not remember addressing you, Miss. Granger.” He turned to Harry and Draco. “If you two wish to act like adolescents, then I will oblige and treat you as such. Both of you are to march towards that wall and press your noses to it and not speak until I say so. If I so much as hear a whisper or a snicker, you will remain there all night!”

Harry scowled at Professor Snape and began to march towards the wall, the Remembrall still in his hand. He stood about an arm’s length away from the wall and sighed.

“I am rather certain that I said to press your nose against the wall, Mr. Potter,” droned Professor Snape before turning onto Ron Weasley. “Mr. Weasley, what can I do with you for punishment?” He thought for a moment. “Yes – you get off this time, Mr. Weasley but trust me, in the future you will not be so lucky.”

“Professor Snape, what are you doing here?” asked Madam Hooch as she looked at her students. “I’m not sure if –”

“Madam Hooch, pray do inform me on your whereabouts?”

Madam Hooch’s hawk-like eyes narrowed on the professor. “I went to take Neville Longbottom to the hospital wing –”

Professor Snape gave her a furious expression. “And so you left an entire class of first-years behind, on broomsticks no less! You left students unattended.”

Madam Hooch took a step backwards. “No students flew,” she gestured towards the first-years, not realizing two were missing. “Nothing bad has happened.”

Professor Snape gestured towards the far wall. “That’s why two students are over there, because they were childish, but I dare assume I should not blame them when it is your fault. You’re just lucky that both Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy were taught to fly at a young age when you left them alone; else they could have been badly hurt.”

Harry tried to stifle his laughter, he desperately wanted to turn around and look at Madam Hooch’s face while Professor Snape tore into her verbally, but that would give away his position and knowing it he just stood quietly and listened in as the verbal argument almost escalated to spells being cast. Of course not in this school, it appeared as if the professors had more control than most. Images of Professor Snape and Madam Hooch duelling flushed through his mind; choking on the sheer stupidity of it, he quickly coughed to disguise the laugh as a cough.

Professor Snape was not stupid, he knew when the boy was stealing his ingredients and he knew now that Potter would do quite well on the Slytherin Quidditch team, not that he cared about such trivialities as Quidditch, but he wanted his team to win and Potter could just very well continue the winning streak they have. He let his mind ponder the thought, especially around Potter and the Slytherin house, him being Seeker would raise his influence with the house drastically, something that would stop him from being targeted by the older students.

“Right, keep both Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy at the wall, if they speak at all the spell will extend one hour and they will stay there for as long as they remain quiet,” h=e said finally, glaring at the back of the two boy’s heads. “Teach your lesson; I do not want to come back here in fifteen minutes because you left your class alone.”

Harry was able to stay there for the whole lesson, they got some leeway with moving, as long as they didn’t turn around and face the courtyard they could move on the wall and even sit down, which both did as soon as they realized they could. He knew deep down that Draco wanted to talk and just strike up a conversation, with how many times his friends lips opened then instantly shut. He wanted to laugh; he really did as he knew Draco would have wanted to speak about something, most likely Quidditch.

He felt the spell on them vanish when the class was dismissed he breathed a sigh of relief and stood, facing away from the wall. “That was a waste of a lesson, I wonder if we can drop flying lessons – I mean it’s not like we got anything done.”

Draco nodded as they walked towards the Great Hall. “I agree, Harry, just you wait until my father hears about this. I cannot believe that we were publically humiliated, I would have rather to serve detention, but that? It was horrible.”

“It was worth it to see Longbottom hurt,” said Harry as he shoved open the large double doors into the Great Hall. “Of course I’d do it all over again.”


	11. The Consequences of a Petty Thief

_Old Name_ : Revelations

 _New Name_ : The Consequences of a Petty Thief

 _Rewritten_ : 06/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry and Draco quickly took their respective seats at the Slytherin table, Rosier and Theodore soon followed. Harry picked at food to put on his plate, slowly picking at whatever he had chosen to put on his plate, hoping that perhaps that if he willed it away the food would vanish and he’d be fully fed. Most of all, he had to act like he was eating or the prat that Draco was would comment on it and begin to pile more food on his plate and glare at him until it was all gone.

He glanced up, eyeing the headmaster with a discreet, yet cold look, waiting. Said headmaster kept his twinkling gaze on him throughout the meal and this is how he learned that Professor Snape had indeed told the man of his night-time activities.

He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t eager for the meeting, perhaps it’d be something that’d get him out of this school and into a better one. Of course, he liked Hogwarts, the history of the castle was the best and there was always something new to learn and explore.

“Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape, standing behind the boy who appeared to be in some kind of deep thought. “You have a meeting with the headmaster, which is mandatory to attend. Your parents are already in the castle and ready to attend the meeting with you. It’s I nforty0five minutes. Do not be late.”

Harry nodded and focused back on his food, a slight smile curled on his lips.

Professor Snape turned to Draco. “I do not trust Mr. Potter to actually go to the meeting, make sure he does.”

Draco looked between Harry and Professor Snape curiously and then nodded. “I’ll make sure he does, Professor Snape.”

Theodore glanced at Harry. “Seriously, in the Headmaster’s office with your parents on your fourth day? That has to be some sort of record.”

Harry snorted. “It was an intimidation tactic, I know how he works.”

“Harry,” said Draco in a slightly worried voice. “If your parents are there, mine will want to come along also, you know how my mother is.”

“I never thought about that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Draco with a forced chuckle. “I feel bad for you, in some sense, because you essentially have two sets of parents.”

Harry decided to sit in silence after that and pick at a piece of his food. His smile had vanished the moment that he had heard that Narcissa and Lucius may be present. He could deal with his own parents, but Lucius and Narcissa were on a whole new level. Time seemed to slow for him as he watched the headmaster stand and walk out of the Great Hall, with Professor Snape following not far behind. It was that indication that he knew it was time for him to go and face the fireworks.

He stood and shot Draco a warming smile. “I’ll be alright Draco, stay here and finish your food.” He said calmly and walked from the Great Hall. He walked calmly towards the Headmaster’s office and stood at the gargoyles. “Let me in!” Nothing happened. “Open!” As always, nothing happened. “I need to speak with the headmaster, its urgent!” The gargoyles opened. “Finally!”

“Mr. Potter, I am glad you could make it,” said Dumbledore with a polite smile, one that you would expect from a grandfather that spoiled you with treats every time you went to his house. “Would you like a lemon drop?”

“No thank you,” said Harry calmly, slowly peering into the room. “I must admit, I am shocked to see that I was called into your office so quickly, sir.”

“The circumstances are rather severe, Mr. Potter.”

“Of course,” said Harry taking steps towards the vacant seat. So far it was only the headmaster and Professor Snape in the room. “I appreciate the fuss, but surely I didn’t do anything to bad.”

“Thievery isn’t tolerated at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter.”

“Is this about Longbottom’s Remembrall? Because I haven’t stolen or thieved anything,” said Harry with fierce determination. “I was holding it so that it was kept safe, after all, I heard Weasley plotting to break it an hour ago, really cannot trust Weasleys –”

“This isn’t about the Remembrall, Mr. Potter.”

“– of course, that family is so poor that they would steal something as trivial as a Remembrall and attempt to sell it off as an ancient artefact from their household.”

“As much as this amuses me, Potter, we’re not here to discuss the Weasley’s financial situation,” said Professor Snape, shifting his gaze onto the boy. “Did you steal ingredients from my private stores?”

“I didn’t steal from you,” said Harry with a blank expression.

Professor Snape sighed.

Dumbledore sat at his desk with his hands folded over each other and tucked away in his lap, his eyes twinkling. He knew that it would be foolish if he waved this off, but at the same time he couldn’t be too serious about it, or he’d lose the boy completely. It was a stray thought, one that he had when he watched Harry Potter being sorted, the length and the fact he hat spoke to him caused alarm bells to ring inside his head.

“I believe that we should hurry this discussion, as it is getting late,” he said after a brief silence that had occurred in the office.

“I agree.”

Harry jolted on the spot, no one noticed of course, but he knew that voice and he had no idea where she was. He blamed Draco for jinxing his luck and having Narcissa here with his mother, who he had only just spotted.

“Take a seat, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore, giving a small gesture to the seat in-between Narcissa and Lily.

“Mother,” said Harry as he sat down. “How lovely it is to see you so quickly.”

“As much as I enjoy speaking to you, Harry, I do not like speaking to you when you’re supposedly in trouble.”

“Narcissa,” he said just as politely, smiling.

“Hello, Harry,” said Narcissa fondly before snapping her gaze to the headmaster. “You were rather cryptic in your letter to Lily, but I have the gist of what you’re accusing Harry of now.”

“I’m sure you have mistaken something,” said Lily with a confused expression. “My son wouldn’t steal from people, he was taught to ask when he wanted something.”

Dumbledore sat silently and let the group discuss it. “Perhaps if he just admitted it, then we’d be all out of here as quickly as we came in and he could repay it back to Professor Snape.”

“I didn’t steal anything from Professor Snape,” said Harry strongly, his facial expression still set as it was when he entered.

“Your father and I were getting worried,” said Lily, veering off the main topic. “Four days and no letter home, nothing about the house you were placed in. Judging by your robes, you made it to Slytherin with Draco, which is great. From my friendship with Severus during my own schooling years I learned that one Slytherin trait or motto was simply that you do not get caught.”

“You’re taking the term far too literally, Lily. Harry, it means that you don’t get caught during a prank, such as jinxing someone’s legs together,” said Narcissa, finishing for Lily. “You have studied History at the Manor, with both Lucius and I and countless portraits from the era that thievery was a lifelong sentence in prison or even death. The rules are outdated and never enforced, thankfully, but that doesn’t mean that you can steal from other people.”

“Did you take anything from Severus, Harry?” asked Lily, his bright green eyes looking straight at her son. “Take, steal, borrow, loan, swipe – whatever you may call it, did you take anything from him for use outside of lesson?”

There was a very long silence.

“I borrowed them,” said Harry softly. “I didn’t steal anything, I borrowed from him so I could make a potion. One that could help me sleep a bit better.”

Lily’s eyes softened and she turned to Severus. “If we pay it back, could this entire situation be overlooked? Harry would much rather brew his own remedies.”

“Nothing taken was particularly expensive or rare,” said Severus with his usual tone of voice. “In fact most of them wouldn’t be used and would have to be thrown out or used within two months regardless. There was one ingredient taken though that I am concerned about.”

“What was it?”

“The plant isn’t exactly expensive or hard to find, so it’d only take a few hours to replenish that particular ingredient,” said Severus, watching Harry. “The issue is that the said ingredient has no use at all in a headache potion, of course it would work and you would probably lose the headache, among other things.”

“What was it?” demanded Narcissa again, leaning forwards.

“Potter took the ingredient known as Angel's Trumpet.”

“The plant that goes into Angel's Trumpet Draught?” asked Narcissa, surprised. “You mean that he took an ingredient that is used in a potion that hasn’t been able to be brewed in centuries? The last successful brewing of the potion was in the age of Merlin and tipped into drinking water, which was soon called a plague of some sorts.”

“The only known ingredient for Angel's Trumpet Draught is of course Angel's Trumpet,” said Professor Snape. “I didn’t say that Potter was brewing that potion, so you needn’t panic about him attempting to poison the populace.”

“Why did you have the ingredient for a highly potent poison?”

“I’m a Potions Master, of course I’ll have some ingredients that are questionable,” said Professor Snape, leaning backwards and pushing against the wall slightly. “I have a lot of different ingredients that I buy with my own Galleons or collect from the Forbidden Forest, they’re great material to teach students with.”

“You made a poison?” said Lily, looking at her son.

Harry turned his head and faced his mother, moving his gaze from a portrait towards the back of the room. “Not exactly.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” repeated Lily with a huff of air being expelled.

“It’s complicated, the entire situation is complicated.”

“Explain it the best you can,” replied Narcissa, ignoring the twinkling eyes of the headmaster. He did the same thing when she was at school and it infuriated her, that dammed twinkle.

“I was experimenting,” lied Harry easily. “It could have easily blown up, but that’s why I brewed it at night –”

“Where if something did go wrong, no one could help you?” interrupted Professor Snape.

“As if anything I brew would go wrong,” said Harry with a slight scowl. “I have been studying the potion for months and months. It’s hard to explain on how it works, but I was never able to get my hands on Angel's Trumpet, it’s distributed by the Ministry, as you know.”

“Also heavily guarded when they learn the locations,” said Lily rubbing tiredly at her eyes, despite it being so early in the day. “You need to remember, Harry, that Angel's Trumpet is a poisonous plant, unlike some, even if it cuts you on its thorn, and it’ll kill almost instantly. I dare say it’s one of the most poisonous plants in the world.”

Of course Angel’s Trumpet was the most poisonous plant in the world, how foolish to not assume it wasn’t. Its texture was like it held thousands of small knife blades on it and cut if you picked it up with bare hands. Unlike the rose, which held it’s thorns in the open, Angel's Trumpet was a little more discreet about it. The leaves on the plant were slightly wilted and breaking apart on the ends, making it appear as if the flower was dead or dying. The plant held only wilted petals and would never regrow if they were pulled from the stem.

Angel’s Trumpet was the wrong name for the plan, its appearance resembled nothing angelic or even peaceful that angels accordingly give to humans. The woman who found the plant simply gave a misleading name in hopes that people would be foolish enough to harvest the plant and then die. It was not her wish to do so, however, it was the person that she bowed to.

“– of course it’s speculated that the draught will kill instantly, but no proof has ever been documented,” said Professor Snape. “It’s foolish to assume that Potter brewed a potion that a long line of Potion Masters have tried to brew and failed, no disrespect of course, Potter.”

“So he made one potion?” said Lily, quickly getting back on subject.

“He made twelve,” said Professor Snape calmly. “One was given to me, I assume he still has the other eleven.”

“Why would you make twelve potions?”

“It makes more than most potions do,” said Harry, shifting slightly in the seat which had just become more uncomfortable the longer he sat in it. “It has to do with the ingredients that are in it, of course most of them help increase the thickness of the potion, making it denser, thus allowing more to be scooped from the cauldron.”

“That makes sense,” said Lily. “Much like with cooking, if you add water, you get more if the food is a soup or something along those lines.”

“Angel’s Trumpet is still a poisonous ingredient, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore, after almost ten minutes of silence. “The fact that you gave a professor a potion that contained the poison, and didn’t explain that the phial of potion contained said poisonous ingredient, is a threat towards the professor’s life and of course is a valid reason that could lead to you being expelled.”

“Okay,” said Harry dully, not really sure on what else that he could say. The entire situation was going good, no yelling, no screaming, and no tears by his mother.

“ _Okay_?” repeated Lily in a tone of utter disbelief, her voice slightly higher than normal. “Is that all you have to say about this situation? I cannot believe that the only thing you have to say about _this_ is okay!”

“What else am I meant to say or do?” said Harry, looking across towards his mother. “I refuse to get on my knees and beg to be allowed to stay in a school that I never wanted to attend anyway.”

“Not this again, Harry,” said Lily with exasperation. “I know that you didn’t want to come here and that if you thought stamping your feet and tossing yourself on the floor would have made a difference you would have done it, but what can I say?”

“I didn’t want to come here! Professor Quirrell is such a huge reason why that I felt as if going to Durmstrang would have been better than here. The man stutters and often ignores half the class to fawn over Longbottom, I’ve only had two lessons with him so far and I have learned nothing of importance. What use does the Wand-Lighting Charm have in Defence Against the Dark Arts, especially when we’re learning about that in Charms sometime next year, just before we go into our second year?”

“Why have you not bought this up with the headmaster?” said Lily, wondering.

“No point,” said Harry bluntly. “Dumbledore clearly hired this man as he was, even with his lacklustre teaching methods, there must be a reason that Professor Quirrell is here.”

Dumbledore made a noise and leaned forwards. “Is that all the complaints that you have?”

“Of course not, Professor Quirrell is just the worst of the complaints that I have,” said Harry glancing towards the headmaster. “There’s Professor Hooch, or whatever her proper title is, she has no idea how to actually use a broom and her teaching methods are as questionable as Professor Quirrell’s. Don’t even get me started on the fact that there is no inter-house unity, why a fifth-year Gryffindor is able to openly mock and torment a second-year Slytherin with no consequence by Professor McGonagall, who was standing directly behind the exchange, is beyond me.”

“The house rivalries are nothing new, Harry,” said Narcissa.

“Actually they are,” muttered Harry quietly. “Look back to before the 1940’s and you’ll realize that the four houses were pretty much friendly, or at least not as open with conflicts. It’s a recent thing, all this open conflict and targeting of Slytherin house.”

“Well…” said Lily and then trailed off from the thought, unsure of how to handle it.

“These rivalries don’t happen at Durmstrang, leading to a better education overall,” continued Harry. “Let’s face it, the Gryffindor and Slytherin feud has been mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_ , in the recent rewrite of the book, and yet Gryffindor and Slytherin share ninety percent of their classes together. It should be Slytherin and Hufflepuff and Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, though I’d love to be with Ravenclaw, as the lessons would actually have a bit of intelligence in them, it’ll leave the two dumber houses in one classroom.”

“But that mindset is the same one that causes these conflicts.”

Harry turned to face the headmaster with a blank expression. “But no one has done anything to quench these rumours, have they?”

“I guess not, perhaps we should seek to remedy that,” said Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling. He gave a grandfatherly smile and turned to Professor Snape. “Severus, my boy, would you mind fetching Mr. Potter’s trunk?”

“But –”

“You needn’t worry, Lily, it’s just a small bit of rules that date back to the early days of the founding of the school.”

“Very well,” said Professor Snape, twisting on the spot. “Mr. Potter, join me and direct me to your trunk. Do fetch it without causing a scene.”

* * *

“Your son is rather intelligent and wise for his age, Lily,” said Dumbledore a few moments after Severus and said boy left the Headmaster’s office. “However, he appears as if this wasn’t a place that he wanted to come to.”

“It certainly wasn’t his first or second choice,” said Lily softly. “The only thing that made him not throw a fit was the fact that Draco was coming here and that was worth the torment, I guess.”

“I assume his first was Durmstrang, but what was his second choice?”

“Beauxbatons.”

“Draco wanted to go there as well,” added in Narcissa. “But he would have been far too away from us and I didn’t want that, so I convinced him to stay at Hogwarts, therefore Harry followed.”

“Forgive an old man, but this is seriously disheartening,” said Dumbledore sadly. “Had Hogwarts really lost its position as the best school in the world?”

“Not in my eyes,” said Lily, almost compelled to say that very thing. “But then again, each generation changes. According to James the Potter line has always been in Gryffindor, yet there’s Harry, who goes Slytherin.”

“That’s utter lies,” said Narcissa with a very slight chuckle. “Sirius wasn’t the first Black to land somewhere besides Slytherin, he was the first in Gryffindor, but not the first out of Slytherin. He was disliked simply because he was a traitor to his blood, a term that most dislike, but it’s true.”

“The Potter family tree is in Potter Manor, which is lost,” said Lily softly. “Else we’d already be there and not living in Hogsmeade.”

“Perhaps I can convince Lucius to look for it?”

“I’d appreciate that, as would Harry.”

“While I enjoy the odd chat or two, we really should get back on topic,” suggested Dumbledore fondly, his eyes twinkling.

“Of course,” said Lily, giving a sheepish look. “I apologize for that, Dumbledore, what would you like to talk about?”

* * *

“Get your trunk, I’ll wait here,” said Professor Snape with his usual tone of voice, although it lacked any real bite to it.

Harry nodded and stepped into his area, which was pretty much empty and made a quick line towards his trunk, which he quickly picked up, making sure everything was in there and not left behind. Of course it’d look suspicious, but he could just lie if anything happened and he was forced to remain here. Compared to the other boys in here, he was the neatest, so it took very little time in order to get it all ready, including adding his shoes into it, which he had to place on the top of a shirt instead of at the bottom like he would have liked.

“All done?” asked Professor Snape, looking into the room. “Nice and tidy, good job, Mr. Potter. Five points to Slytherin.”

Harry watched in amusement as Professor Snape sent a spell at Rosier’s bed, which made it neatly. “You know that he doesn’t like it made, he constantly makes debates that it’s pointless as he’s just going to climb in it later.”

“He’s not the first child to make that same argument,” said Professor Snape, gesturing towards the door. “Come, let’s see if we can get this without anyone noticing us on our travels.”

Harry followed silently, listening to the snake as it sent on warnings that he should be back before curfew and if he had to stay out longer, then don’t get caught.

“What’s so funny?” asked Professor Snape, hearing the boy’s snicker. “I don’t think facing expulsion is a laughing matter.”

“Nothing,” said Harry, no way to explain that the engraving of a snake that was imbued with Salazar Slytherin’s magic was demanding that he be back before curfew and then claiming that even if he was with the protector of the nest, he should be back before curfew. “Just something I heard in passing.”

“Alright.”

The silence continued on after that, neither of the two willing to strike up a conversation as they twisted around corridors and seemingly evaded all students in the dungeons. Only the sounds of faint breathing and footsteps echoed throughout the deserted corridors.

There was only one set of stairs before they reached the Headmaster’s office.

“I haven’t had the time to check the potion you left me,” confessed Professor Snape, still walking as fast as he was before, in long strides. “I must admit, the colouring the potion is unique, much like the spell you used to break my wards.”

“I had a feeling you were watching,” said Harry, more to himself. “I saw the glimmer, but didn’t focus on it, and promptly ignored it as a trick of the lights.”

“Black,” said Professor Snape in an almost eerie tone of voice. “I’d call it more of a shadow black than anything.”

“Indeed.”

“Not many spells are that colour, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape, his face moulded into one of thought. “In fact, I have yet to see one in my lifetime that is the colour black –”

“Black isn’t a colour,” corrected Harry, a smug look on his face. “In scientific terms, black and white are not colours. White is a mix of all colours and black is the absence of all colours in terms of light mixing.”

“I do not need a lesson in Muggle scientific terms, Mr. Potter.”

“I was just informing you that you were wrong.”

“I was not _wrong_ ,” said Professor Snape. “There has been no direct study over the fact that black and white are or are not colours. I refuse to even participle in such a pathetic debate.”

Harry smirked victoriously.

“However, a spell that is black is almost unheard of, Mr. Potter –”

Harry sighed.

“– of course, I may say that not many are that colour, it’s a simple over exaggeration as no spell is pure black, just like no spell is pure white.”

“I have yet to study the depths of colours and spells, professor.”

“Of course, I learned it all in my spare time,” said professor Snape. “What’s stopping you?”

“Besides the incredible curriculum at this school? Nothing.”

“No need to be sarcastic, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape, a slight scold to his tone. “You’d be learning the exact same at Durmstrang at the current moment and I can assure you that you’d be learning slightly less at Beauxbatons.”

“Neither of the two other schools have classes called Defence Against the Dark Arts,” said Harry with a sneer. “I already checked. This is the only school that is openly bias towards the Dark Arts.”

“With good reason.”

“With no reason besides the fact that –”

“Pixie Puffs,” interrupted Professor Snape.

The Gargoyle gave a bow and slid over, allowing the two to climb up the stairs.

“Welcome back,” greeted Dumbledore with a smile that was almost as bright as his phoenix, who had its head tilted to the side, judging those who just entered.

“Thank you?” said Harry confused, wondering why he was greeted in such a manner. He dragged his trunk and placed it just in front of the headmaster’s desk and sat down in the chair that he was sitting in previously. “Everything is in there, not as packed as neatly as I would have hoped, but it fit.”

“You didn’t have to pack everything, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore with a sad smile. “But you packed up remarkably quick.”

“I never really unpacked, just pulled what I needed from my trunk as I went along.”

Dumbledore smiled once more, losing the sadness to it. “I must admit, I am partially the same, I do enjoy a nice clean area to work in.”

Harry just ignored the rest of this meeting, or so it was called, not that much meeting or talking about him was done, instead they seemed to be talking like old friends that hadn’t seen each other in many years. He wondered what the decision would be regarding his schooling, it’d be an interesting turn of events, to be honest. Of course, you didn’t need to actually attend a school to learn magic, as everything could be taught through books and experiences, real world experiences.

Perhaps that’s what he would do, teach himself.

“– this shouldn’t take much longer, even less time with a resident Potions Master on hand to inspect the potion and make sure that it has no poisonous traits to it and then we should be done here.”

Harry turned and face the headmaster, only just catching the tail end of the obviously long speech as the man drew a long breath afterwards. He gave a smile and gestured towards his trunk, giving his acceptance on the fact that they could check it.

Lily leant down and clicked open her son’s trunk, silently praying that whatever he had made wouldn’t be deadly or be in the category of a dark potion. It was as if time had slowed as if she clicked open each latch and lifted the lid of the trunk open, revealing her son’s neatly packed trunk, which held his shirts, pants and other things that a boy would have in their trunk. She shifted aside the neatly folded white shirt, which was folded by a house-elf, clearly, and picked up a phial, which was a black mist.

She held up in the light, directly towards Professor Snape. “Is this it?” she asked, her voice soft, laced with fear.

Professor Snape leaned in, towards the phial and madding a humming sound as he studied it. “Appears to be the exact same one that I was given, but this one has a slight shimmer to it.”

Everyone turned to Harry.

“Because it was shifted around and disturbed,” he said after a slight pause, taking the attention with practiced ease. “Let it settle, and it’ll stop shimmering.”

“How did you make a black potion?”

Harry turned and looked at his mother, confusion on his face. “Believe it or not, but it was made accidentally when I was trying to brew something else.”

“What?” said Lily softly, her green eyes flashing with something that only two people in the room most likely noticed. “What were you trying to brew, Harry?”

“At first, I was trying to brew Angel’s Trumpet Draught,” he said calmly, an air of confidence surrounded him. “I had no idea what other ingredients to use so I just tossed in a few random things and what you have is what I made.”

“You tried to make a poison?”

“I’ve made plenty of different poisons – never used them on humans before I get accused of that.”

“Oh, Harry,” said Lily under her breath. “I never thought you’d dive into the darker side of potions.”

Harry straightened, an expression of annoyance on his face. “I was told, by you, that I should pursue potions as I had a natural talent in it, so I did and I made everything that I could! In order to make potions that counter the poison, you first have to make the poison. For example, the counter potion to Angel’s Trumpet Draught may not even contain the ingredient known as Angel’s Trumpet. Sure, I may have made a poison, but I never used them on another human, so I did nothing illegal.”

“We’re not accusing you of poisoning people, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore calmly, defusing the situation instantly. “We just simply need to know all the facts.”

Professor Snape picked up the potion that Lily had placed on the desk and held it up the light, tipping it left to right and swirling it a little bit, an expression of amazement appeared on his face for a split-second before he quickly masked it and set a mask of annoyance on his face. He pout the phial down and took a breath. “It doesn’t appear to have any characteristics of a poison.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” said Harry with a smug look.

“Perhaps it’s time to test out the potion on an animal then?” said Professor Snape with a certain look that said everything. When no reaction was given he flicked his wand and a fluffy white bunny appeared on the headmaster’s table. It sniffed around a little and gave a small hop. “Last chance to save an innocent bunny, Mr. Potter.”

Harry laughed. “Nothing will happen to the little bunny, however you may want to give it a carrot or some lettuce for pulling it away from home.”

Professor Snape grumbled, pulling the cork from the potion and tipped a small amount into a container which the bunny happily hopped to and drank.

They all waited in suspense, waiting and waiting for something to happen, but it didn’t. The bunny lived on and only made a move when Harry had somehow gotten a carrot and was feeding the piece of food to the bunny, who was happily devouring the carrot.

“If you just asked instead of pulling me here, I would have told you that the potion did nothing, as it was an experiment,” he gave a slight giggle as the bunny licked his finger, trying to get the last bit of the carrot. “Yes, I took your ingredients, but I was certain you would understand that I was attempting something. In fact it was one of your lessons that actually inspired me to try this batch.”

The room sat in silence and watched as the black-haired boy played with the fluffy white bunny, unsure of how to handle the situation that they had jumped into. Perhaps they were wrong to not trust the boy who hadn’t ever really done anything to threaten any students, a quiet yet intelligent boy.

“I believe that we should call it a night, as it’s getting late,” said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. “I apologize, Mr. Potter, but you must understand that it did seem suspicious, especially on our ends.”

“I guess,” said Harry with a silent sigh.

“You’ll be staying, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded to the headmaster and stood, holding the bunny. “I’m going to get some lettuce from the kitchens. Professor Snape, please take my trunk back to my room.” He gave them no chance to say anything as he left the room, holding the bunny and pushing open the door.

“Well, that went well,” said Lily as she watched the irritated Potions Master close the trunk and pick it up, walking out of the office.


	12. Ouroboros

_Old Name_ : Revelations

 _New Name_ : Ouroboros

 _Rewritten_ : 07/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry, who was feeding the pet bunny a piece of cabbage, began walking towards the dungeons, his mind set on figuring out a name for the bunny, perhaps he could call it Salazar and make it a house pet. He wasn’t aware that he had spent so long in the Headmaster’s office, he caught a glimpse of the slightly darkened sky and lifted his eyebrows in surprise. In some sense, he was glad that he didn’t have Astronomy tonight as that would have left him tired the following day, which would have caused a slight decline in his grades.

He walked down the corridors glancing at the portraits who all seemed to be asleep or quietly whispering amongst themselves. He reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room in record time, he was just about to whisper the password when the portrait swung open and revealed Draco standing there with a slight smirk.

“Professor Snape sent word that you’d be coming back,” said the blond-haired boy, staring at the rabbit. “I’m glad that you didn’t get expelled.”

“How do you know that?”

“We’re Slytherin’s, Harry, now what did you do?”

Harry snorted. “It wouldn’t be very Slytherin of me to tell you that, now, would it?”

“I’m your best friend,” whined Draco, adding heavy amounts of emphasis on best.

“Clearly,” said Harry with a smirk. “I’ll tell you in detail later, but this is Salazar, the bunny.”

“Salazar?” repeated Draco in complete disbelief.

“Salazar the Bunny,” said Harry fondly, stroking the ear of the bunny.

“You’re insane.”

“You can say that again,” said a deep voice which was followed by snickers of laughter. “Potter has always been a bit off. I heard you almost got expelled, Potter. Judging by the fact you’re still here and not thrown out I would say that you didn’t get expelled.”

Harry glanced at his feet before sighing. “An excellent observation, Flint. I’m slightly proud that you didn’t need one of your cronies to point that out for you, because when one generally gets expelled they’re forced to leave.”

Flint seethed before flexing his hands a little. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I believe my intelligence is somewhat advanced for my age, but I believe that’s because I actually read and want to study instead of just being around a school for no reason at all. Of course, I have heard all about you in my four days here, mainly from Professor Snape and some from adults but they all say the same thing about you and that all you’re good at is Quidditch.” Harry glanced at the forming crowd and sighed silently, he didn’t want to draw attention to this little debate.

“I’m better at things than just Quidditch, I can promise you that, Potter,” said Flint taking a step forward.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re trying to intimidate two first-years, is that what you have to resort to for attention?”

“Be quiet Malfoy!” scowled Flint at the blond-haired boy. “Let your little boyfriend speak for himself.”

“Please don’t tell me that you’re now resorting to petty homophobic remarks?” asked Harry, his tone slightly soft. If the answer was yes he would just walk away as these people were thicker than walls. “You do realize that two boys can just be friends, nothing else, right?”

Flint ignored everything Harry said and focused on Draco. “I heard that you and Potter were almost inseparable as children, that you’ve been friends since you were about five,” he snorted. “I always wondered why you two seemed to ignore everyone else in the room and focus on yourselves, it became obvious when Gemma spent most of her time with Potter. She’s a known fag hag.”

Harry let out a breath and shook his head slightly. “That has to be the most pathetic thing I have ever heard in my life. One. I’m eleven and have no interest in dating at the present moment. Two. My sexuality is none of your concern.”

“It’s my concern when you flaunt it around the common room!” replied Flint instantly, a tone of anger in his voice as he took another small step towards the two first-years.

“You know what? I am done with this conversation,” said Harry, turning around. “Come talk to me when you have a grasp on how to speak a different language other than troll, Flint. Maybe we could have an impromptu Quidditch match and I’ll show you up that way, after all, I think I could beat you with my eyes closed.” He tugged Draco along with him and made his way towards the first-year dormitories.

“Merlin, Flint is such an idiot,” muttered Draco as they stepped inside. “What did he aim to prove with his stupid stunt?”

“Making himself look even more stupid than he already is. Although that wouldn’t take much, I can assure you he will fail his N.E.W.T.s easily next year, he’s in his sixth year, right?” asked Harry and smiled when Draco nodded. “Yeah, I bet you fifty chocolate frogs that he will fail his N.E.W.T.s.”

“I’m not an idiot Harry, I’m not going to place a bet like that because he will fail them, you can be certain of it to be honest,” said Draco happily as he slumped down on the sofa next to Theodore. “Hey Theo.”

Theo looked at Draco and then spun slightly to look at Harry. “I see you didn’t get expelled, that’s fantastic.”

“With the way Professor Snape dropped of your trunk, it looked as if someone had kicked his pet bat or something.”

“Really, Rosier?” asked Draco, sarcastically. “A pet bat?”

“Well… yeah.”

“What’d you even do?” asked Theodore, his smile never fading.

“I _borrowed_ some ingredients from Professor Snape, he must have put an alerting spell on his personal stores and I triggered it or something. I’m not sure how he even knew it was me,” said Harry with a slight shrug and then let out a small laugh. “I had to tell them what potion I was brewing and why I was brewing it.”

Theo lifted an eyebrow but said nothing else on the matter, he wondered briefly what Harry would need to make a potion and why he didn’t just go to Professor Snape or Madam Pomfrey. “You were making a potion? When did you even have time for this? I always see you around.”

Harry gave Theo an incredulous look before chuckling slightly and turning away, looking out the window, he saw a few Merfolk swim past and look at him curiously. “It’s a long story really,” he shrugged, “the headmaster told me not to tell anyone about it until I get the all clear from Professor Snape.”

“Was my mother there, Harry?” asked Draco, leaning in slightly.

“Yeah, she was,” said Harry. “Lucius wasn’t and neither was my father, it was just our mother’s.”

“Oooh.”

“Don’t make that sound,” snapped Rosier from the side. “It’s pathetic.”

“Git.”

“Prat.”

“Children, please,” said Harry mockingly. “I’m going to get dressed for bed, do not start fights in my absence.”

“Are you leaving the rabbit?”

“Yes, Draco, do not hurt Salazar the Bunny.”

“So, Theo, what’d you do today?” asked Draco as his friend retreated with a pair of pyjamas.

The conversation between Theodore and Draco went on with a usual pace, Draco never really cared much for anyone else besides Harry and making friends often were called allies instead of friends, that’s what he was taught. He listened in and nodded to whatever Theodore was saying, some was interesting, but he knew deep down that it would be Harry who wanted to talk about this, he didn’t care for history.

“So you and Harry are close then?” asked Theo, changing the subject.

The question startled Draco, he wasn’t expecting it at all. He glanced over towards Theodore with a slight smile and nodded. “Yeah, we’re friends, if I recall right I first met him when we were about one, we became friends at a young age, about three or four.”

“Interesting, you must know him inside and out,” said Theo as he pondered something in his mind. “Who would have thought that a Malfoy and a Potter would have gotten along, it’s almost as odd as a Weasley and a Malfoy.”

Draco snorted. “I’ll never get along with a Weasley, they’re a disgrace,” he said with some anger behind the words, he had no idea why he felt so angry towards the Weasley family, he was told about some kind of feud between the two families that was centuries ago.

“Seems as if Harry dislikes them as much as you do,” said Theo, not really believing it but went with it anyway.

“He’s disliked them since as long as I can remember, it got worse when he nearly died at their house, although no one really goes into detail about that, I heard mother and father discussing it,” said Draco before pausing for a while, leaning back in the chair. “Although, I wouldn’t call what they live in a house, it looks like random materials condensed together – it really is an awful thing to see, it taints the wizarding name.”

Harry walked in to hear what Draco had said and he laughed to himself before he joined the conversation. “You can say that again, I honestly believe that I was forced to stay in that house, I was pretty sure it would topple over at any given minute, it seemed so unsteady that I was pretty damn sure it would and kill me underneath all the rubble.”

Rosier snorted.

Harry climbed on his bed and sat on the end of it, glancing over towards Draco and Theo. “I still have no idea what my father sees in the Weasley family, they have more kids than they have sense. I was always told that most wizarding families stuck with one or two children, not seven, goodness.”

“ _Goodness_ ,” mocked Rosier, laughing into his hand.

“Prat.”

“Seven is a powerful number,” said Theodore softly, not wanting to get into a debate over the word goodness. “A lot believe that seven increases the magical flow or something odd like that, of course I don’t see how a single number can do that, but I guess it’s much like how people say thirteen is bad luck, it’s all superstitious.”

“If they had less kids, they could probably afford a decent house,” muttered Draco, more to himself than anyone else in the room.

Harry snorted. “I’d go mental if I had six siblings that would be hell, it’d be like a contest with everything you did,” he shrugged and glanced at Draco. “What were you two discussing prior to the Weasley family? I doubt that conversation would last about fifteen minutes. Do I dare to assume you went back to plotting your diabolical plans to take over the world?”

“Of course, Harry, what else would I be talking about?” said Draco in jest. “At least I can safely say that my plans are progressing and are becoming active as we speak. Yours, however, are stuck at the beginning stage, better known as: finding a partner in crime.” He held the smug smile on his face when he saw Harry’s face.

“You wish! You’re my partner in our plans and no exceptions on the matter, its final!” said Harry, a look of fake anger on his face. “We work very well together, no one could beat us in anything, and we’d have the world eating out of our hands easily. You can join us, Theo!”

“What about me?”

“I guess you could fit in somewhere, Rosier,” said Harry with a smirk.

Theo just nodded and lent back slightly on the sofa and listened as the two boys began to plan about their future in controlling the wizarding world and all its inhabitants, wizards, witches and creatures alike. Of course as they kept going he soon realized that their plan had so many flaws in it that it would fail on the first step if they ever tried and of course he found some humour in that. Draco would be the rich and arrogant aristocrat that would handle the politics side of things and use his wealthy connections to bribe others. Harry on the other hand would become a Potions Master and create new and deadly poison to poison political enemies who dare stand in their way in capturing the world. In a matter of minutes others were pulled into their plans.

“Harry!” said Draco loudly while glaring at the said boy. “We need some sort of henchmen, bodyguards – Crabbe and Goyle can do that perfectly!” He glanced off to the side and pursed his lips. “We also need someone famous to use in the light to try and garnish more support for us. What about –”

“No! We’re not using him!” snapped Harry instantly, not liking that particular thought. “We can use someone else.”

“I guess we could use Dumbledore,” said Draco in a tone of defeat. “Your grudge could cost us some important plans.”

“Longbottom is an idiot regardless.”

“Still, he’s famous and plenty of people would chase after his word.”

“He’s a fool,” sneered Harry.

“The Boy Who Lived would be a better candidate, we both know it.”

Harry sighed in utter defeat. “Fine,” he muttered vehemently. “We can use him, but we would need to manipulate him so he doesn’t get any funny ideas and try and rat on us. I guess we could think of a spell that would strike fear into him so he doesn’t even think about ratting on us. Actually, just throw a spell at his feet and he will crumble on the ground, he’s a coward.”

Theodore had noticed that Rosier had retreated rather early on in the conversation, clearly displeased with the plans that were being made about him. He listened on in shock as the plans went from child’s play to something a strategist would come up with. Soon each plan was slightly perfected and was covered with a backup plan. He knew that the plans weren’t serious and would never be followed through with. A prime one was the fact that Harry plotted to have Muggles wage war on themselves.

He continued to listen and frowned as they would handle traitors, in a rather cruel manner compared to what Wizards can do to make themselves comfortable. He did debate about going to Professor Snape about it, but what could he say if they ever learned he did it? Would he be tossed into a cell with an ice floor that would never melt?

“We need a name for ourselves! A name for our little group!” burst out Draco, snapping both Harry and Theodore from their thoughts. “Something catchy and has a good meaning behind it.”

“That’s hard, maybe if we add multiple languages to it? That way it sounds foreign and awesome!” said Harry helpfully. “You know French, come up with some cool French words.”

“What about ouroboros?”

“We don’t want a cliché name, Draco,” said Harry with a sigh. “I can safely say that if this were a book, or if a book about this situation was being made, that’d be the very first thing that an author would chose.”

“What’s an ouroboros?”

Harry turned to Theodore. “An ouroboros often symbolizes self-reflexivity or cyclicality, especially in the sense of something constantly re-creating itself, the eternal return, and other things such as the phoenix which operate in cycles that begin anew as soon as they end. It can also represent the idea of primordial unity related to something existing in or persisting from the beginning with such force or qualities it cannot be extinguished.” He said calmly. “The symbol is – uh – a serpent or dragon eating its own tail. It pretty much means infinity.”

“I didn’t know we were getting a lesson,” said Theodore with a slight laugh. “It does seem a little cliché though, in my eyes anyway, but you know so much about it, it would be a good name, a little long maybe you could shorten it?”

“That would ruin the point entirely though! If you go through the trouble in making a group, you need a good name that doesn’t seem lazy,” replied Harry. “There is a lot of information on the ouroboros. I have a book at home. I learned about ouroboros after reading about Jörmungandr, who is also an example of an ouroboros.”

“What exactly is Jörmungandr?” asked Draco looking completely clueless. “You never told me about this!”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Jörmungandr essentially means huge monster, often known as the Midgard Serpent or World Serpent. Jörmungandr is a sea serpent, the middle child of the giantess Angrboða and Loki. According to the Prose Edda, Odin took Loki's three children by Angrboða, the wolf Fenrir, Hel, and Jörmungandr, and tossed Jörmungandr into the great ocean that encircles Midgard. The serpent grew so large that he was able to surround the earth and grasp his own tail. As a result, he received the name of the Midgard Serpent or World Serpent. When he lets go, the world will end. Jörmungandr's arch-enemy is the god Thor.” He took a deep breath and frowned. “That is all I’m telling you, it’s all in books!”

“How do you know that without using a reference?”

“I’m just great, Theodore.”

Draco looked awestruck about the revelation. “That’s interesting, it would certainly make a good name, ouroboros I mean, the meaning behind it is extensive and of course the symbol could be a snake.”

Harry cupped his face in his hands and shook his head. “Did you not hear me just now, Draco?” he ignored Theo’s sniggering. “The symbol of an ouroboros is a serpent – even if some do claim that it’s a dragon, it’s clearly a serpent.” He was quite contempt to just let this subject drop and he was pretty thankful when Theo changed the subject.

“We better get ready for bed, I can already assume that Professor Snape will be in here soon to tell us,” said Theodore and glanced at the door when the others straggled in and got ready for bed. “Told you so.”

It was about fifteen minutes after Theodore had jinxed the room had Professor Snape walked in, slowly opening the door with a scowl on his face and observing each boy as they made a half-hearted attempt at climbing into bed before curfew. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath before telling the boys calmly to go to sleep. He flicked off every light in the room with a flick of his wand and closed the door.

“He’s much like a parent,” whispered Rosier towards Harry with a slight snicker. “You know, the way he looks over us as if we’re his children that have tormented him since our births.”

Harry let out a little laugh, but that was all he did regarding the comment. He stayed up thinking, his eyes boring into the green canopy that hung loosely overhead. He wasn’t tired, of course not. He sighed a little before raising his mental shields to filter out any stray thoughts as he gently closed his eyes, the blackness almost overtaking him instantly. He shifted slightly before dozing off into a peaceful sleep.


	13. Brewing With Professor Snape

_Old Name_ : Hallowe’en

 _New Name_ : Brewing With Professor Snape

 _Rewritten_ : 08/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

The days crawled by at a snail pace and they seemingly merged into weeks and almost months. Before Harry knew what was happening, a month had already passed and it was slowly entering October, which made him slightly happy as the year was finally progressing. He had spent a lot of his time with Rosier and Draco, mainly Draco, studying various concepts of the Wizarding World. His earlier complaints of Defence Against the Dark Arts were forgotten as he sat on the edge of his seat, listening to another lecture by Professor Quirrell, who had stopped stuttering so badly over the weeks.

In most lessons it was Harry and Longbottom who were called to demonstrate a spell if anyone else couldn’t do it, and that’s how Professor Quirrell taught, lacking in theory, but did a lot for practical lessons. Hardly anything in the lesson was documented and lesson homework as almost non-existent, much too some displeasure of Ravenclaws, who seemed to live on homework.

During the first week of October, Professor Snape had barged into the first-year boys’ dormitory and demanded that Harry and Draco accompany him to his lab. That was all that was said.

“Why?” said Draco the instant that Professor Snape left the room. “I did nothing wrong and yet I get dragged into it.”

“Because you’re an accomplice, perhaps.”

Draco muttered unhappily under his breath as he stood up with his friend and made his way towards the potions room, or better known as Professor Snape’s potions lab.

“I can already tell that this is going to be a rather gruelling experience,” muttered Harry as he weaved around a third-year Slytherin, who sent him a curious look. “Let’s just hope we can do it without any arguments occurring.”

The two boys stepped into the potions classroom and glanced around, both their gazes lingered on the irate Potions Master briefly before they announced themselves with a subtle throat clear and then a sigh. They walked in and stood at the desk facing the potions master.

Harry rolled his eyes and looked at Draco. “We’re wasting time waiting for him to acknowledge us. I’m going to get the ingredients for the potion.”

“Alright.”

Harry pretty much stormed towards the cupboard which held the ingredients he needed. “This place is dusty!” he sneezed and scowled at the cupboard. “Where are the damn quills?”

“Language, Mr. Potter,” called Professor Snape across the room, “and they’re in there, obviously, I assume they’re just out of sight because your vision is filled with angst.”

“My vision is not filled with angst! That is a ridiculous thing to say!” snapped Harry instantly, manners be damned. He was already in a foul mood. “If you cleaned this cupboard I would not be having this issue.”

Professor Snape glanced at Draco who just shrugged. “Cease your childish behaviour, Mr. Potter.” He stood and glanced towards the cupboard where the boy was rummaging around. “Accio porcupine quills!” The said porcupine quills flew past the boy and snapped into his hand.

“Cheater,” muttered Harry under his breath and closed the cupboard. “Draco fill this cauldron with water.”

Draco tapped the cauldron and it filled with water, which was a useful charm, he had to admit. “What now?”

Harry silently began to prepare the ingredients, deep down he was thankful for having Draco here who was at least competent in potions, as much as he learned over the years it seemed like the only Malfoy to not excel in potions was Lucius and Abraxas. He carefully sliced into the ingredients, preparing their lengths for when it was needed, he asked Draco to set the cauldron on the standard temperature.

“So, Mr. Potter, what can you tell me about this potion?” asked Professor Snape in a nonchalant manner, glancing at both the boys while carefully peering into the cauldron.

“Why are we even doing this, professor? You and I both know that the potion failed –”

“I am not an idiot, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape, his posture straight as if he was looking down on someone highly inferior to him. “I was brewing potions before I reached Hogwarts, much like yourself as my own mother was a Potions Master. The difference between you and I is that I didn’t lie as often as you do at your age.”

“Calling me a liar?”

“No potion fails, Potter, no attempt is for nothing,” said Professor Snape in an icy tone. “Perhaps I was an idiot myself for assuming that you had a basic understanding of potions. You may not have made what you wished, but you created something else, something unique.”

‘ _Make them believe the potion failed_ ,’ said Tom eerily. ‘ _Of course, you’re a better brewer than I would have assumed at the start, but what else can I say? I pick the best_.’

“Exactly,” said Harry, partly to ‘Tom’ and partly to Professor Snape. “I know that it’s unique, especially the colouring, but that’s all, perhaps I made something that was a light source or a potion that could be used for decoration.”

“Salazar aid me,” said Professor Snape, his hands resting against the left temple. “I’ll smash the phial before it would be used an item for a decoration!”

Draco was shocked at such a Muggle declaration by the professor, as wizards did not just smash things! He remained silent and listened on as the two argued and watched as Harry threw in ingredients in the midst of an argument without it even effecting his skill at brewing.

“– pointless argument and it’s also a silly claim,” raved Harry, gesturing with his left hand. “I have done countless studies regarding it, and I never once –”

“Countless studies?” repeated Professor Snape with a hint of amusement. “You’re eleven, your adolescent couldn’t understand anything that you’ve read, especially about a theory as the one that you’re proposing now.”

“I may be eleven, but that doesn’t mean I am an idiot!” said Harry with a scowl. “I spent the previous three years reading theory on various spells, potions and different subjects that would help aid me in my search. This wasn’t something that I randomly decided! How dare you assume that! I’m nothing like Longbottom, I used books from any source I could, unlike Longbottom who pranced around with his fame.”

The conversation become somewhat tense after that and the two brewed the potion in silence.

For a while, Draco wondered why the air around these two was so tense, clearly they were over what had happened years ago, but they were waiting for something to happen that would fully clear the air, and until then, it’d stay as hostile as it is now.

The potion was eventually complete, despite any drama that had sprung up and almost threatened to stop the brewing.

“Where’s that rabbit?” asked Professor Snape, glancing around, preparing to summon it.

“You’ll not use Salazar the Bunny for your ridiculous testing, he’s a part of the Slytherin house now.”

Of course, Salazar the Bunny had become an official mascot for the Slytherin house over the month that had just past. Plenty of Slytherins at first questioned why they got a bunny instead of a snake and why it came from a first-year was a common one, but soon enough the fluffy bunny soon grew on them and it hopped its way to the top. A week or so ago a seventh-year attempted to hex the poor thing, thinking it would have been humorous, but that soon vanished when he found forty plus wands pointed at him, some even from first and second-year students.

Even a few rumours came up that Salazar the Bunny was really Salazar and that he was an Animagus. It soon joined the Giant Squid being Godric rumour and it soon spiralled from there.

“Ah, yes,” said Professor Snape. “The ridiculous bunny that every Slytherin would sooner dive in front of to protect. What have you done to my house, Mr. Potter?”

* * *

Harry sat on the sofa in the common room slightly slumped across it, Rosier sat at the end of his legs and Draco sat just near his head, a book open across his chest was the only sign that he was doing something and not asleep. The three of them were already tired and bored of the daily routines, it started with potions and extended to every class, the worst was Astronomy for sure, all three agreed on that.

Harry soon felt the ever familiar tug of fingers weaving through his hair and then the feeling of his head being tugged slightly backwards. The feeling of fingers pushing through his hair was a feeling of pure bliss and he loved it, every moment that someone was messing around with his hair. It didn’t matter who did it, the feeling was the same every time. The tingle down his spine and the relaxation that it provided.

He closed his eyes and just let Draco do whatever, he loved it.

It had started about two years ago, closer to three, when he and Draco were messing around and Draco complained about his hair being messy and not neat, as it should have been. Armed with a comb and some sort of hair product. That’s how Harry first knew that he liked his hair being touched, it was weird to admit, but whatever.

Draco, of course, would never let Harry touch his hair, his hair was perfect and it must remain that way in public, the only time it was ever messy was when he was in bed, sleeping, or in the shower.

“I see you’ve finally made your move, Malfoy,” barked Flint, standing just behind the three boys with a feral look on his face. “I’m sure your father would be so thrilled to see you’ve manned up some! Or you could be the female in the relationship? Hmm, I heard he always wanted a daughter, maybe now he has his wish.”

Harry let out an annoyed sigh and glanced over Flint’s shoulder, looking for the brute’s companions. He was somewhat shocked when he saw none. “So tell me, Flint, what exactly is your issue? Are you simply mad or angry because your _friends_ left you to bully a group of first-year students? I’ve –”

“Be quiet, Potter.”

“– heard all about your family, Flint, for the past two hundred years they’ve done naught but make themselves look like bumbling idiots. What happened to Josephina Flint? She was Minister for Magic from 1819 to 1827. She was elected at least twice. Ever since then, your family has done nothing –”

“I’m warning you, Potter, shut up!” snapped Flint, breathing heavily. “I know that your _daddy_ got you half that information.”

“Stop being a git and listen to me, for goodness sake,” said Harry with a tone of annoyance. “One day I’ll get through your head that you’re wasting your life by being a bully currently or that your only future ambition is to be a Quidditch player? You need good grades for that, Flint.”

“Your little boyfriend is a firecracker, Malfoy,” said Flint, ignoring the black-haired boy with ease. “You should teach him to shut his mouth before it gets him into trouble.”

“Come on, Harry, he’s not worth it, honestly,” said Draco, pulling his friend up. He glanced to Rosier who gave a slight headshake noting that he was fine where he was. “If I was in the same predicament as him I’d abuse first-years too, having no money and no friends must suck.” He walked into the first-year boys’ dormitories and slumped on his bed.

“I honestly have no idea what his issue is,” said Harry as he dropped next to Draco and observed the small area they had. He glanced at Rookwood’s bed and wondered why the boy’s area was so tidy, compared to everyone else’s. “I could have sworn that Hogwarts would have at least provided some entertainment, but so far the lessons and the entire curriculum has been a bore.”

“I agree, at least in a slight form. The school isn’t what mother or father even hinted at,” said Draco with a frown. “All we do is study, study, study! But even if we could play Quidditch or tryout for the team, Flint’s the Captain and I doubt he’d let us onto the team, even if we were the best Seekers in the world!”

“You know I don’t really care for Quidditch,” said Harry softly, his face set into one of familiarity. “I just enjoy flying.”

“We have about forty minutes before Transfiguration,” stated Draco, looking towards the clock on the wall. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to try changing the colour of the curtains on my bed purple –”

“That’s stupid,” interrupted Draco.

“– just to see how long it would take someone to notice,” finished Harry with a frown.

“We could play chess?”

Harry furrowed his brow and put his hand on his cheek, debating whether that’d be a good idea to do. “Is there even a chessboard in here?”

“Yeah, I’ll get it,” said Draco, jumping up from the bed and dashing towards the almost hidden cupboard that contained various magical games.

“I never noticed that there.”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Draco, placing the chessboard between them. “If it contained books you’d have sniffed them out.”

“I’ll be black,” said Harry, watching the pieces as they climbed onto the board with grunts and took up their positions. “I prefer black over white.”

Draco laughed and flipped the board, ignoring the distressed cries of the pieces.

“Those two – Crabbe and Goyle – have no personal hygiene at all,” said Harry, feeling like he should start gossiping about people. Chess always did that. “They leave their clothes all over the floor – look, there’s a pair of Crabbe’s socks – or are they Goyle’s?”

“I think they belong to Crabbe.”

Harry made a humming sound and shifted his piece, blocking the plan that Draco had just attempted to begin. “I’m just thankful that Salazar had sense and placed something that nullifies smells, else we’d be driven out of the dungeons by the sheer smell alone.”

“You’re going to have to get used to it, Harry,” said Draco, shifting his pawn forwards. “After all, you’re in a room that’s shared by eight boys. If you’ve listened to the rants that my mother frequently starts about boys and their smells, then you should know what’s it’s going to be like, even with the charm that nullifies smells.”

“It’s not hard to be tidy.”

“Are you going to be the mother hen of our dormitory and pick up all the clothes?” asked Draco, almost tauntingly. “I’m pretty sure Professor Snape will handle it, I can assume he will have strict hygiene rules, especially as the students grow older.” He decided to move a random pawn on the board two spaces and smiled.

Harry sniffed. “Well, if he doesn’t then I’ll just have to make up a few ground rules for our little dormitory. I have a very sensitive nose –”

“Seriously?” said Draco, interrupting his friend. “You spend all your time with disgusting potion ingredients.”

“ – I do not want to smell dirty clothes or sweat from other boys because they lack motivation to take five steps and place their clothes in the laundry basket.”

Draco glared at the board when his knight was taken. He straightened up and stared at Harry. “It was all planned.”

“What do you think of Zabini?” asked Harry, slightly curious.

“He’s not that bad, really,” said Draco, biting his lip and shifting a bishop between two different places. He glared at the board when he realized no matter what he did, Harry would take it with no consequence to him at all. He moved his piece for angrily, almost breaking the piece as he slammed it down. He looked up with a smile. “Blaise and I have known each other since we were little.”

“I’ve never seen him around the manor.”

“We were letter friends, pretty much,” said Draco. “We only stayed in contact via letter and the time we met in person was awkward as he just sat around and did very little in regards to communication. He kept eyeing Pansy as if he was planning something for her.”

“That’s not a bad thing though, right?” asked Harry. “I mean one day all of us are going to do just that, perhaps he’s doing it just a little earlier.” He fingered the top of the bishop and ignored its complaints as he did so. He shifted it towards the center of the board and released the head of the poor bishop, who was now grumbling.

Draco didn’t understand why Harry did that move, his glare intensified. Play chess against Harry was about as fun as poking a dragon. “Explain!”

“Well, from what I have gathered, it’s almost natural, or wired, for a boy to glance or stare at a girl. That’s what father said to me before I left for Hogwarts, anyway. You wouldn’t believe some of the things he said to me, honestly. It was the most awkward experience of my life.” Harry shifted one of his piece across the board, placing it just near his bishop and leant backwards, smirking. “It’s hard to explain it, though,” he continued, watching Draco. “I can assure you I have no desire to stare at a girl at this moment. But then again, we’re in a dorm room full of boys, soon enough we’re going to see things that we just don’t want to see and we have to get over it. Maybe it’s the same with girls. That’s how I see it anyway.”

“When I asked for an explanation, I meant about the move that you just did as it made very little sense, not about girls, you git,” said Draco with a slight laugh. “You know, father gave me the same talk, I think. Like what do they expect me to do while I’m here?” He glanced back at the board, his fingers toying with his bishop as he eyed Harry’s knight carefully, he could take it, now he just had to make sure the piece couldn’t be taken. He broke out in a smile and laughed.

“You only got that piece as you distracted me!” Harry forced a laugh but was seething inside at making an obvious mistake, he almost hit the chessboard in pure anger. He glared at the board before he saw a move he could make. “HA!” he proclaimed loudly, snapping Draco’s attention to him. “I got your queen.” He shifted his rook and knocked Draco’s queen off the chessboard and onto the blankets on the bed.

“You obviously cheated, there is no way that you could have done that! I checked three times, it shouldn’t have been possible!” huffed Draco, glaring. He then realized that he did actually make a mistake, not that he would admit that. “Ah – right – it’s fine, I let you have my queen, call it a handicap for you,” he quickly glanced down at the board, carefully observing the next move he could do to get himself back in the game, losing the queen was a big loss. He glared at the chessboard, he couldn’t see a move that he could do that would work to his favour, he was about to shift his pawn when he saw one, he moved his knight and took Harry’s rook with it, he looked at the piece that took his piece and glared at it.

“If you keep glaring at the chessboard you may set it on fire with your heated glare or something.” Muttered Harry as he shifted his piece to prepare a check, he just hoped that Draco would fall for it.

Draco made a grunting noise and shifted his piece to block the move that Harry had planned, he saw it a mile away, and it really was an obvious move. He grinned to himself when he saw the crushed look on Harry’s face. “You get way too excited when a plan of yours nearly works, you have no mask so it’s just obvious. Put on your Potter Mask!”

Harry snorted and shook his head. “Nah, it doesn’t sound cool like Malfoy Mask, it needs to start with a ‘P’ of course I could call it Potter Protection,” he sighed before knocking Draco’s pawn off the board. “Do you like anyone?”

Draco said nothing for a minute before he glanced up. “I’m eleven, Harry, I have no interest in people besides you, and I like you. You can be nice.”

Harry felt his cheeks get slightly warm, he was confused about it but ignored it. “Thanks, I like you too, only when you’re not being a prat about something,” he chuckled and sat up a little. “Pansy isn’t bad, I like her hair to be honest,” he said quietly and glanced at Draco again. “What about Millicent Bulstrode, what do you think about her?

Draco made a slight gagging noise and then began to laugh loudly. “She looks like Crabbe, which would just be weird if you ask me, plus she isn’t that attractive and she has a brutish personality. The only thing that I like about her is her hair, I like black hair.”

“What about Tracey Davis? She has dark hair, although it’s not black it’s somewhat darkish. “Harry replied helpfully before he lost it at the mental image of Draco dating Millicent in his mind, it really wasn’t a pleasant sight. “Daphne Greengrass and Sally-Anne both have dark hair too, I only just really realized this, odd that. ” He moved his piece near Draco’s king. “Check!”

Draco sighed and glanced up towards the clock, at first he did a double take and then instantly jolted up knocking the board flying from the bed, the pieces groaned and abused him for cheating, he just simply ignored them.

Harry looked at Draco in shock. “What the hell Draco?” he moaned. “I was about to win!”

“We’re late for Transfiguration, and by about twenty minutes! We were playing chess for an hour, Harry!” Draco pulled Harry from the bed and dashed out the door, taking an almost sprint to make it to class on time. “What are we going to say? Like what is going to be our excuse for being late?”

Harry pursed his lips in thought. “Just say that Professor Snape held us back to assist him, that’s why we were late and I can guarantee that he will cover us.” He smiled to himself at a brilliant plan and ran a bit to catch up to his friend, whom was speed walking. “With any luck at all, Professor McGonagall will be late herself.”

Draco snorted and glanced at Harry, who was certain this would work and they wouldn’t get into trouble. Both boys turned around the corner walked into the chest of someone, someone they didn’t want to see at that particular moment.

“Ah, would you look at this! I never thought I’d see the day where I caught you skipping classes,” said Flint with a sneer, his rough voice was loud and he narrowed his eyes at the two boys who had just stood up from falling over. “This is perfect, just perfect.”

“Really?” asked Harry, pausing mid-step. “Have you come up with the perfect plan?”

Flint ignored the taunt and instead let a victorious smirk appear on his face, one that most would recognize the smirk he got when he won the Quidditch Cup. He wrapped his large first around the collar of Harry Potter and did the same to Draco Malfoy, using his sheer strength and size to make the journey towards the first-year Transfiguration room effortless.

“What is it, Mr. Flint?” said Professor McGonagall with a frown, noticing the boy standing near the slightly open door.

“Forgive me, professor,” he said, showing all kinds of respect that he normally wouldn’t. “Caught these two trying to skip your lesson. Apparently sitting in a broom closet was far more important than learning what your lesson provides.”

“First of all, _Flint_ ,” said Harry, sneering as he said the name. “Draco and I were busy, doing something for Professor Snape, so we were a little late. Secondly, we were not even five steps away from the classroom when you grabbed us around the collar and began to drag us here. Thirdly –”

“That is enough, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. “You may go, Mr. Flint. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, take your seats.”

Harry ignored the snickering of the class, which clearly came from the Gryffindor side, and made his way towards his seat, his lips pursed and his eyes flashing with some form of anger. His cheeks were flushed slight pink, not that anyone could tell unless they started at his pale features with a keen eye.

Professor McGonagall hushed the classroom easily. She began her walk back towards the front of the room, but stopped directly in front of Harry Potter. “Mr. Potter, if would be so kind to explain what exactly you were doing and how it caused you to be late for my class.”

Harry would have utilized the method that silence was the best answer, but he wasn’t able to remain silent with the niggling feeling of people laughing at him. “Flint was dragging things from the common room into the open. I don’t meant to be rude, but you wouldn’t understand,” he said, almost sadly. He noticed her frown, but didn’t comment on it. “I do apologize, professor, for both mine and Draco’s tardiness.”

Professor McGonagall would call herself a fair professor, unlike some of her colleagues she always aimed to treat everyone equally, as they should be. She often compared herself to Poppy, better known as Madam Pomfrey, with her attitude and fairness. When the black-haired boy in front of her said she wouldn’t understand, she almost lost her control on her temper. But it was true, she didn’t understand and she most likely never would.

Standing up straight, she sent the two boys one final stern look and huffed out, “Five points from Slytherin, each, for your tardiness.” She turned and made it back to the front before she said anything else. “You could earn that back, easily, if you behave in this classroom.”

When Professor McGonagall turned away, Ronald Weasley leaned in, just mere inches away from Harry’s ear. “I think Flint was right, you know, as much as I hate to admit it. I think that you and Malfoy were actually in the broom closet and you lied to cover it up –”

“Mr. Weasley,” said Professor McGonagall with a stern look. “Would you mind sharing your secrets with the class or will you sit back in your seat and be quiet and let me teach the lesson?”

“Sorry, professor.”

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.” McGonagall tapped her board and instructions filled it.

Harry glanced at the board and sneered at it, hoping it would simply burn or something. He never really touched the subject or bought any more than one book on it when he was doing his book shopping. He hated Transfiguration. He quickly picked up most subjects, but this was one that never stayed in his head.

“What’s making you smile so widely?” he hissed at Draco, who was smiling about something. “I honestly understand nothing of this subject, as I am great and perfect and – I don’t get it. We should have started on theory or something.”

“This is theory,” said Draco happily. “We’ve been doing Transfiguration for what, a month now and the same lesson plan each lesson. Professor McGonagall gives the same speech every lesson and you’re still confused?”

“Prat.”

“Git.”

“Do you two require any help?” asked Professor McGonagall. “I’m sensing more discussion than actual work going on here.”

Harry pushed himself backwards in the chair, his hand unclenched from frustration a look of eerie calmness settled over his face. “Of course not, professor,” he said, almost disgustingly sweetly. “Draco and I were just discussing the subject. All the fantastic and curious things that can be achieved with Transfiguration. Of course, we both know that it’s the hardest subject to master and anyone who even reaches a professor status must be rather talented.”

Professor McGonagall gave a smile and stayed silent for a moment, lost for words. “Well then,” she said with her lips slightly pursed. “If you don’t need any help, I’ll just be over there. DO call out if you’re confused.”

“You moronic, idiotic, git!” hissed Draco in a whisper. “The professor was right there and instead of asking for help, you smooth talk her away from you?”

“I don’t need her help,” said Harry. “I can do this, I’m _good_ at magic. A simple bit of Transfiguration isn’t _hard_.”

“You don’t need her help?” repeated Draco, disbelief lined his face. “Why not ask for help? You clearly need it.”

“I don’t need any help!” snapped Harry in a whisper. “I’m not some stupid, whimpering child that needs their hand held with magic! I can do this and I won’t have anyone looming over me claiming they taught me or that I was stupid enough to not get the theory of something.”

“Asking for help doesn’t make you a stupid whimpering child, Harry.”

Harry said nothing.

“I have always enjoyed Transfiguration,” said Draco, ignoring Harry’s internal brooding. “It’s complicated and tough, and plenty of other things that could be sued to describe how hard it is. Yes, it has a steep learning curve, but it’s is such a brilliant and rewarding subject that it pays off to study it.”

Harry remained quiet, his teeth gently biting into his lower lip.

“Listen to me!” said Draco, turning his hair and snapping his fingers in front of Harry’s face. “Just imagine the possibilities that you could do – that you can do! Imagine, throwing a quill and turning it into a sword! Throw a feather, change it into something midway. I know you like duelling, you have books on it. Transfiguration is hardly used in duelling, but when it is, the person who used it comes out on top.”

“I am listening.”

“Clearly you’re not.”

“I just want to learn it by myself, no one looming over me.”

“Well,” said Draco, humming. “You’re not going to .Face the music, Harry, you’re not perfect, and you’ll need assistance in life.”

“So?”

“It’s like learning a new language,” said Draco, ignoring Harry completely. “You begin at the alphabet, which is what we’re learning currently. Transfiguration is just that, a new language.”

Harry huffed.

“I can tell already that you hate this subject, and therefore you lack anything that’ll help you do it. When you cast the Fire-Making Spell, Incendio, what do you think of?”

“The item burning.”

“Obviously,” said Draco sarcastically, his right hand resting on his chin. “You need a deeper intent for Transfiguration –”

“Ten points to Slytherin,” said Professor McGonagall, standing in front of the two boys. “Mr. Malfoy is, of course, correct in his basis. For Transfiguration to work, you need a lot of intent on making it work and anything is possible.” She waved her wand over the desk and transfigured the wood into ice, then back into wood and finally into leaves. “I had to visualize each change separately. There’s no such thing as rapid-fire Transfiguration, as it requires extreme concentration.”

Harry didn’t move a muscle.

“If nothing else sells you, then there’s one thing worth studying Transfiguration for,” said Draco, eyes blazing with emotion. “And that’s Animagus training. They’re very rare and it’s an amazing feat of magic to be able to do it. I’m sure you’d be something awesome, maybe a bird or a snake.”

“Why do they get points?” bellowed Ron, his face tinged slightly pink. “They’re cheating! Malfoy is giving Potter the answers!”

“Five points from Gryffindor, for your interruption and childish outburst, Mr. Weasley,” sighed Professor McGonagall. “We’re currently not sitting an exam, nor are we doing any sort of quiz or test that would warrant secrecy. I was taught Transfiguration by Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so I do know what I’m talking about –”

“I’m sorry, professor,” interrupted Ron, looking rather put out.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “I put you in pairs so you can learn from each other, assist each other and use each other as a tool to gain experience in the subject. Everything said so far has been true. Transfiguration is one of the hardest subjects you’ll learn at this institution.”

The lesson continued with no further outbursts from Ron Weasley, as the boy seemed as if Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom would tear off his head if he burst out with anything else and lost Gryffindor points. Most students grasped the concepts of the lesson, whereas some were still confused. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Vincent Crabbe and surprisingly enough, Damien Rosier.

At the very end of the class, when the room was being dismissed, Professor McGonagall asked Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy to remain behind for a quick chat. She was confused on how the boy known as Harry Potter was struggling, as he was dubbed a prodigy by almost every professor in the school. She had overheard the fact that the boy didn’t want to seek help, he was independent and refused to ask. After all the questioning, she awarded them both twenty points and sent them on their way.

Harry and Draco walked back to the Slytherin common room with a slight spring in their steps.

* * *

“So, Harry,” said Theodore, breaking the silence. “You never said what you were afraid of.”

“If we ever study Boggarts, you’ll know then, Theodore.”

Theo made an angry sounding noise in his throat. “It’s probably something ridiculous like a snake. Imagine being in Slytherin and being scared of snakes.”

“I have a pet snake,” said Harry calmly. “I’ve had her since I was six.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, her name is –” Harry paused and watched as a red letter flew into the room, heading straight for him. He knew what it was. He cursed his luck for getting a howler.

“Harry James Potter, I am highly frustrated with you at this moment! Not only you, but your father as well – be quiet, James – I have heard about what you have done to the professors of Hogwarts. How you have been treating them is wrong! The little sneers and – James… I’m warning you, be quiet – the small jabs that you’ve been giving them… poor Madam Hooch, she taught both your father and I while we were at school, not that I cared for Quidditch at all, pointless sport – James, I swear to Merlin! Hush – but not only that, I have heard from a few professors that you have been rude to Neville, he has been through a lot, and you know that! He looks up to you – James I do not care if I hurt your feelings about Quidditch, it _is_ a pointless sport – your manners are appalling, you can bet that I will be informing Narcissa about it! You’re eleven now, Harry, not seven, act your age. I’m sorry for this being late, it appears that your father thought it would be a good idea to hide the letters from Hogwarts under the sofa. You’re walking on thin ice, Harry, one more toe out of line and I’ll come straight to Hogwarts and share your baby photos with the school! Love you lots, Love from your mother.”

Harry looked at the letter in utter disbelief, he was shocked that his mother would threaten him with baby photos! The letter was sent in his mother’s tone of voice that screamed ‘I’m not going to yell, but I am very disappointed with your actions’ tone of voice, which was mainly used against his father when he did something bad, like stashing Hogwarts letters under the sofa. He gave the letter a smirk when it tore itself apart, leaving ripped parchment on the green sofa.

“Well, I have to say, that really was interesting,” said Draco, flicking a piece of red paper off his knee. “At least your father covers for you by stashing the letters. He should have burned them though, which is what I would have done. I see now what your mother means when she says that your father never really left his Marauder days.”

Theodore’s jaw dropped slightly, he glanced at Harry and then Draco and finally back to Harry. “Your father was a Marauder?”

Harry gave a slight nod. “Yep, along with Sirius and Remus. The three of them used to inform me of all the pranks that they did at school and how they got out of it,” he paused momentarily before continuing. “I’m an honorary Marauder, once I learn what my Animagus form is I can be given a name and such! I just need to get better at Transfiguration.”

“I’m sure you’ll get better at Transfiguration, Harry,” said Draco before checking the time. “Come on, Theo and Harry, we better get to our next classes, the break is almost over.”

“What lesson do we have next?”

“Charms, Harry, something I expect you to excel in.”


	14. T-Troll in the D-D-Dungeons!

_Old Name_ : Hallowe’en

 _New Name_ : T-Troll in the D-D-Dungeons!

 _Rewritten_ : 13/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry spent the next few days paying heavy attention in the classes that he was attending, not wanting to get another angry letter or a howler from his mother. He had naturally, of course, sent a letter to Narcissa using Hedwig, who happily took the letter. He wrote and burned so many different letters to his father and finally gave up trying to write a letter.

“Charms,” said Draco, placing the piece of paper in front of Harry.

Harry made a whining sound and quickly got to work on the Charms homework, which was obviously just given out and had two weeks to be completed. Despite this, he tended to excel in all classes and continuously received praise for the work that he handed in. In just under a month, he was the professor’s favourite student, being able to win them over with praise and he had the work to back it up.

He stopped going to flying lessons, he used that time to study Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, and it was better than sitting around on the courtyard pitch doing nothing. This is how he was spending the remainder of the flying lesson that was currently happening.

“Very good, Mr. Potter,” praised Professor McGonagall. “Even with your attention slipping, you still managed to get the basics done on the spell theory.”

Harry smiled and altered it slightly, hoping that the change would so some good.

“Oh, no,” said Professor McGonagall with a slight laugh, which morphed into a stern looking instantly. “That will not do!”

Well, apparently not. At least it was worth the attempt.

“Oh forgive me,” a long string of Scottish sound words filled out of Professor McGonagall’s mouth shortly afterwards, leaving the black-haired boy in disbelief. “Did you mean to do that?”

“Nope,” said Harry sheepishly.

“I don’t believe it. You certainly are your father’s son.”

The reference was lost on Harry.

“Your father did something very similar when he was in this very classroom.”

“What did he do, professor?”

“Altered a very basic spell, making it easier for him cast,” said Professor McGonagall. “I personally could not replicate the results, neither could Albus, but we saw that it worked and when he did it in front of us, we were fully in belief that it worked.”

Harry realized that he had amazed his professor that her ability to string a sentence together had become slightly slurred, as if she had been drinking some very minor alcoholic substance, or ingested a potion which makes you dazed. He watched in amusement as the professor attempted the small change he made with her wand and nothing happened.

“We’ll continue this next week, I think,” said Professor McGonagall after a lengthy pause. “Once we get this done I think you’ll be at the same point as everyone else, maybe a bit more ahead.”

“Thank you, professor,” said Harry honestly, his green eyes flashing with appreciation. “Thank you for sitting with me to help me with my issues. I hope I didn’t cause you to fall behind in your grading.”

“Of course not, Mr. Potter. You would be surprised to learn that I enjoy teaching students, as long as they listen and don’t muck around in my lessons.”

Harry slipped his notes into his bag and stood.

“I do appreciate that you actually make conversation, Mr. Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, causing the black-haired boy to stop at the door and turn to face her. “On Wednesday at four o’clock, I hold small study sessions for Transfiguration, all years and houses are allowed to come. The door is open, Mr. Potter, if you would like to come.”

“I will, thank you,” said Harry with a slight smile before pausing in his leaving once more, his shoe squeaked along the floor. “Same time next week then, I assume?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter.”

“Farewell, professor,” said Harry and quickly left the room. He stepped out of the classroom, which was pretty much dubbed as Professor McGonagall’s temporary office by some older students, as the woman was always there. He made his way towards the dungeons with a confident aura. His eyes scanned over the few students that were lurking around in small groups, chatting about what they did the previous weekend or were planning to do on Hallowe’en.

It was at that moment that most of them, mainly the Gryffindors, were eyeing him as if they wanted to play the game known as ‘chase the lone Slytherin’.

He quickened his step and made it to the dungeons in almost record time. He stood at the door to the classroom for a whole of three minutes before he pushed it open, revealing an empty room.  He knew it would be as potion lessons were never back-to-back as the classroom had to be aired out after each lesson and sometimes the charm on the room took a little while to vent out the air. Not only that, but mixing vapours of potions can have disastrous effects on the nose and cause some drowsiness in students.

He actually enjoyed the Slytherin house, but at times he just wished that he was able to make friends with the other houses without being called a traitor to the house or being sneered at by the other houses. If it wasn’t for the rather large library in Hogwarts, he was sure he would have gone insane from it, not that he was sociable at all, but sometime sit paid off to have ‘friends’ from other houses. With three houses wanting a Slytherin’s blood, it caused him to spend a lot of his time in a state of disquietude.

“Would you mind explaining what you’re doing in my classroom at least ten minutes earlier than you should be?” said Professor Snape, drawing out each word as slowly as he possibly could. His dark eyes narrowed on the boy sitting at one of the desks. “I do hope that you haven’t returned to your previous ways, Mr. Potter.”

“I was with Professor McGonagall, using her free time to study Transfiguration with her and she let me out a little earlier than the other classes.”

“What lesson?”

“Flying lessons,” said Harry without blinking an eye. “I already know how to fly so I saw no point in attending the lesson. Professor McGonagall wrote a note for me and led me to her office, where we studied for the lessons, as we have done since the very first flying lesson.”

“Does not explain your earliness.”

“I pretty much jogged here, well it was more of a speed walk, after I saw a group of Gryffindors hanging around,” said Harry, looking up. “I’m not sure why we’re targeted by every other house. I can understand the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but the fact that Hufflepuff – the rejects they are – attack us is beyond me.”

“Perhaps that’s why?” said Professor Snape icy. “Almost every Slytherin refers to Hufflepuff as the useless house.”

“But –”

“Voicing that you find the Hufflepuff house to be the house of rejects isn’t a good way to earn their respect, Mr. Potter.”

“Yes, but –”

“As you’re already aware, Slytherin has a rather dark stigma about it. The fact you continue to openly show impertinence towards Hufflepuff isn’t gaining you any favours from the students, I have heard a few talk badly about you. Your father is the Head Auror, you may do well to realize that your actions have a slight negative effect on him.”

Harry let out a small sigh and began setting out his papers and hesitated in getting out a cauldron to use, he wasn’t sure if they were brewing today.

“You know where I’m coming from?” said Professor Snape, leaning against the table.

“No,” said Harry bluntly. “At least about it all besides the part about my father. He could be the Minister for Magic and I’d still be the same.”

“What about the impact your attitude has on the Malfoy family and your own mother?”

“How?” asked Harry as eloquently as always.

“Do you mean how it impacts them? Of course you do,” said Professor Snape, leaning in slightly. “You know that the Malfoy family is seen as royalty among the Wizarding public. Especially with Lucius’ heavy connections in the Ministry, not just for political sway. The Minister himself dotes on Lucius, hangs from his word.”

“Yes,” said Harry as he shifted in the chair slightly. “I know that.”

“Then you would know that if Narcissa could get away with it, your surname would be Malfoy and not Potter, correct?”

“Yes…”

“You’re an extension to the Malfoy family and everyone knows it.”

Harry felt as if an old person was drilling him about new age things, or if he had just stepped on some old ladies flowers.

“I feel as if I no longer have to explain, as you should get it by now.”

“I understand,” said Harry not meeting the professor’s eyes. “My actions against the professors reflect badly on Narcissa and Lucius.”

“How are you finding the Slytherin house? Everything you expected?”

Harry turned to face the professor instantly, unsure of where that came from. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, “at the moment it appears to be filled with incompetent members at the moment. It took me ages to fix the damage that Flint caused me and Draco in Transfiguration.”

“Hmm?”

“Flint makes it his daily goal to harass the first-years. I have a feeling that’s what Gemma challenged him to a duel over, as it has cut down significantly, but it’s still annoying have him loom over you throwing out petty taunts.”

“You’ve been in Slytherin for a month and still haven’t got Flint under control?” asked Professor Snape, leaning backwards. “And here I was thinking you were actually intelligent.”

“I am intelligent.”

“Academically, perhaps.”

“What does that mean?” said Harry, pushing on the desk slightly.

“Use your head and connect the dots,” said Professor Snape, expressionless. “The Slytherin house has set guidelines and you’ve been taught them all by Lucius and some by Narcissa. Go on, tell me what you have gathered about Slytherin so far.”

Harry relaxed slightly, his face losing the slight colour of red that it was tinged with. He silently pondered the question in his mind for a brief moment. “From what I have gathered and seen over the previous month is rather simple. Slytherins respect power, and if you have power, then you rule Slytherin. If you have that power then you’ll be perfectly fine. If you have no power and no way to gain it, then the best you can do is try and mask your ignorance and pray that no one sees through the façade.”

“Almost perfect,” said Professor Snape.

“Ignorance is weakness. Knowledge is power.”

“Now, that’s new.”

“It’s true though. Knowledge is power, the more knowledge you have, the more powerful you are.”

“The most important rule of Slytherin is that we keep a united front in front of the other three houses. A lone Slytherin is an easy target for a group of let’s say four Gryffindors,” sneered Professor Snape. “A united front will only protect you so much, but that doesn’t mean that a Slytherin won’t try and shove you down the hierarchy ladder in order to boost themselves sup.”

“Why am I hearing about this now?”

“And you shouldn’t until your latter years. I doubt even Mr. Malfoy knows about it, but I’m sure Narcissa filled him in with half of the information.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. It’s knowledge that is passed down by Slytherin parents to their children when they make it to Slytherin. Sirius Black is a prime example of why parents wait until they pass on the knowledge and it’s normally done during the first holiday, that way there’s plenty of time to explain it in person and not intercepted by a non-Slytherin.”

“Right,” said Harry, understanding now.

“Now, as there’s a few minutes left before the lesson actually starts, let’s discuss Mr. Flint. What will you do about him? How can you know him down and attempt to take his place?”

Harry said nothing.

Professor Snape sighed. “I’ll give you a hint. Quidditch. Mr. Flint has barely reached above a pass in most of his classes, but he excels in Quidditch.”

“Rubbing his weaknesses in his own face would gain me no favour, in fact it’s probably worse to do. As much as I have gathered, most houses are the same, at least regarding this. Ravenclaw respect those that are the most intelligent in the house, normally a seventh-year. Gryffindors tend to follow the most… boisterous idiot they can find,” he noticed the smile on the professor’s face, “and Hufflepuffs follow the friendliest?”

“Hufflepuffs tend to follow the most hardworking student.”

“Slytherin follow the student with the most power. It all makes sense now.”

“I would hope so,” said Professor Snape as he put up a quick Tempus, revealing that there were only a very few minutes before students would be at the door.

“So I should use Flint’s weakness against him, without obviously trying to discredit him,” said Harry musing over the thought for a bit. “His only talent, according to you, is Quidditch. If I beat him, he will crumble due to only being good at Quidditch. Whereas I’m perfect and good at everything –”

Professor Snape coughed.

“– so if I were to make him appear to be bad at Quidditch, he would have nothing to fall back on.”

“Excellent,” said Professor Snape. “We’ll be brewing today – just answering your unasked question.”

Harry began plotting in his head as various students slowly entered the room, surprise filling their faces when they already saw him sitting there. He smiled at Draco, who sat next time him, and watched as Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom walked in, almost late, talking as only they existed.

“Today, we will be brewing the Antidote to Common Poisons or Antidote for Common Poisons, as some may call it,” said Professor Snape, sneering at the two Gryffindors who were whispering to each other. “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, as it appears your discussion is more important than the rest of the lesson, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing it with the entire class.”

“I – uh – no, Professor,” stuttered out Ron, looking like he had just seen his greatest fear. “I-it was nothing, j-just a joke.”

“A _joke_?” repeated Professor Snape sarcastically. “It’s odd that you don’t want share some humour with the class.”

“It’s not appropriate,” said Neville quickly.

“Ten points from Gryffindor –”

“But –”

“Each,” said Professor Snape, a predatory gleam in his dark eyes. “For your disrespect and the interruption you had on my class.”

Neville sighed in defeat and shifted away from Ron.

“You will be working in pairs today, mainly to stop certain students from melting their cauldrons,” he sent a quick look at Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom. “The first pair to complete and hand in a perfect potion will receive ten points each and will attend a fifth-year brewing lesson.”

Hermione leant forwards in excitement, hoping that her partner would be adequate. She glanced over and looked at Lavender, who was staring at Neville with some sort of dazed look.

“Before we begin brewing the potion, who would tell me what a side effect of brewing the potion incorrectly?” said Professor Snape, letting his dark eyes scan over the students, who mostly had their hands tucked under the desks. He noticed Hermione Granger with her hand up and wanted to ignore her, but suddenly a plan formed in his mind. “Yes, Miss. Granger?”

“The Antidote to Common Poisons has no side effects, professor,” said Hermione confidently.

“Incorrect, Miss. Granger,” said Professor Snape, taking a large amount of pleasure at the look on the girl’s face. “Let’s see if we can find someone who has actually studied. Mr. Potter?”

“The side effects of the Antidote to Common Poisons is rather obvious to anyone who has picked up a book on common healing,” said Harry with a cruel smirk. “If the potion is brewed incorrectly then the potion will fail and not cure the actual poison. Instead, it mutilates it, causing you to get even sicker and amplifies the poison, speeding up the process and will inadvertently kill you faster.”

“Excellent, ten points to Slytherin,” said Professor Snape. “I have one more question, if you wouldn’t mind answering it? Of course you wouldn’t. How do you tell if an Antidote to Common Poisons has been brewed incorrectly?”

“If the potion has been brewed incorrectly it will not be a teal colour, instead it will be more of a darker cyan,” answered Harry calmly. “It’s one of the few potions that will change colour and consistency. A correct potion will be teal and somewhat silky, an incorrect potion will be a darker cyan, as I said before and rather thick tasting, like rubber.”

“Five more points to Slytherin. I applaud you for actually taking this class and subject seriously and knowing that not everything can be learned from a book.”

The classroom knew that it was time to get the ingredients from the cupboard and all scattered to get ready.

Harry waited until the large group somewhat dispersed before he made his way to grab the things he needed. He grabbed the ingredients and made his way back towards his table, he placed the bezoar, the 2 measures of stands ingredient, the pinch of unicorn horn and 2 mistletoe berries on the table with a sigh. “I hate that cupboard, I swear,” he stood and filled the cauldron with tap water before sitting down, completely unaware that the entire class was watching him.

“Mr. Potter, are you not capable of activating the charm on the cauldrons to fill them with water?”

“I apologize, professor,” said Harry, setting the cauldron down on the table. “The last time that I attempted to use the in-built Water-Filling Charm it failed and I ended up flooding the sitting room – terrible indeed – ruined mother’s flowers. Telling you the truth, I disliked them regardless and I laughed when I noticed that I had ruined them, but don’t tell her that.”

Draco continued the next steps while Harry began to set up the pewter cauldron, brass cauldron and the copper cauldron. They both worked around each other successfully completing each step with practiced ease. “No one else is at the stage we’re at!” muttered Draco while waving his wand over the potion, completing the first stage.

“That’s great,” said Harry while he began to frantically wipe down the top of the table. “You know, I’m actually dreading the Hallowe’en Feast…”

“Dreading?”

“Yeah,” muttered Harry, still wiping the table with a cloth. “I’ve only ever heard good things about it. You know that you cannot trust something that always receives praise, especially from my father.”

“Harry, for the love of Salazar, stop wiping down the tabletop,” said Draco in a defeated tone of voice. “It’s distracting me from my thoughts.”

“Hmph.”

“Now, while everyone is distracted, tell me why you used tap water and not the in-built Water-Filling Charm. I know you’ve never had issues with it.”

Harry quickly wrote on a piece of parchment and sneakily handed it over towards Draco, pushing it across the tabletop.

_Using spelled water tends to weak certain potions, this is one of them, not by much, but you get the point. It’ll be better quality using natural water. Natural water verses spelled water. The former will always be better than the latter. In taste, potions, cooking. The magic from the spelled water reacts somewhat badly with the spell you use during the potion. Burn this before Professor Snape sees it, it’s my own little secret, hundreds of hours of theory!_

Professor Snape, who was watching the two boys like a hawk that was hunting its prey, saw the note being written and then pushed across the desk. He instantly prepared to intercept the note, that burning desire only increased tenfold when he saw the look on Draco Malfoy’s face. “Accio Harry Potter’s note!” he said with a gentle flick of his wand. The letter slipped from Draco Malfoy’s grip and towards him.

Harry glared at Draco, then at the professor and then at the table.

“An interesting theory, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape in a silky tone as he burned the letter and vanished the ash from his desk. “Twenty points to Slytherin for an almost revolutionary –”

“Oh! That is such bloody –”

“Mr. Weasley!” hissed Professor Snape, in a tone so dangerous it caused Neville to drop an ingredient into the cauldron he was brewing in.

“Why does Potter get points for passing around love letters?” said Ron, his face slightly red. “If that were any of us, we would have lost house points and received detention!”

“If you didn’t interrupt so rudely, Mr. Weasley, you would have heard the consequence that I would have given. However, I now have new punishments to hand out. That’ll be five points for your outburst… another five points for your disrespect… and ten for your foul language.”

Ron gaped at the professor, slowly adding up the total that he just lost in his head. Twenty points.

“– another five points for daydreaming, Mr. Weasley, I said you have detention with Filch tonight at seven o’clock, sharp.”

Half the Gryffindor house sighed.

“I also suggest you tend to your potion, Mr. Weasley,” said Professor Snape, looking between the two boys and the potion with a sneer. “It’s the wrong shade of blue, I assume you did a step incorrectly.”

* * *

Harry woke up a little earlier than he usually does, perhaps it was due to the excitement of Hallowe’en, not that he enjoyed the holiday, but this one was special as it was his first Hallowe’en at Hogwarts. His first real magical Hallowe’en. Even if today was Hallowe’en, there was a few classes today. First up was a double lesson of Potions, then a single Transfiguration just before lunch and finally a single Charms before the Hallowe’en Feast. During the few days leading up to Hallowe’en, he heard a few Muggleborn Ravenclaws suggest dressing up as various costumes and they were almost ridiculed by the pure-blooded students, who thought that they were stupid for dressing up as things that already existed.

He quickly got out of the shower, thanking the fact that the entire dormitory slept in and were rather lazy, and slipped on his pants and shirt in almost record time. He made his way from the bathroom with his green and silver tie in hand and tossed it on the bed, watching in amusement as Rosier chewed on his pillow.

The seconds merged into minutes, which merged into an hour. With the sun firmly lifting into the sky, the residents of the first-year boys’ dormitory soon woke. The grumblings and groans of frustration by the boys didn’t help those that wanted to remain asleep.

Harry, who was glaring at his tie, hadn’t noticed Draco waltz into the room, fully dressed, and standing behind him. So when he turned and hurled his tie towards his bed, her caught Draco in the face with it.

“Putting on a tie isn’t hard, Harry,” said Draco, pulling the tie off his face and twisting it in his fingers. “Let me do it for you, else we’ll be here all day waiting for you to get on a stupid tie.”

“Thanks,” muttered Harry, standing still as the tie was wrapped around his neck and quickly tightened.

“All done,” said Draco, pulling back after a moment. “See how simple that was.”

Harry, Draco, Rosier and Theodore all walked towards the Great Hall in a small, disorganized group. They trailed behind the other Slytherin students, who were gossiping about things such as Quidditch or the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.s. Harry grinned at some of the decorations that were plastered in the Great Hall.

“I wonder if they’ll have treacle tart at the Hallowe’en Feast,” said Harry, glancing at the empty tables with a look that explained why his stomach gave a slight rumble. “Do you think they will?”

“Of course they’ll have it, Harry,” said Draco with a slight chuckle. “Mother is to blame for your crazed addiction of treacle tart, I cannot believe she gave you the damn thing almost every day you stayed at the Malfoy Manor.” He sighed and began to make idle chat his best friend about the memories and adventures of them attempting to make the treat themselves, much to the annoyance of the house-elves.

Harry groaned and ignored Draco, who continued to rave on about rather embarrassing memories. He sat down at the table and instantly picked up two pieces of toast, which were quickly covered in butter and he happily bit into them, the butter dripping down his chin. “Merlin, the toast is amazing!”

Draco rolled his eyes and placed a piece of bacon on his plate.

“I heard today we’re actually doing the Levitation Charm in Charms today, seeing as everyone finally got the whole _swish and flick_ thing correct.”

“Yeah, Weasley may as well be a squib, honestly,” said Draco tiredly. “Thankfully, those who suck at Transfiguration just get assigned homework to catch up. We’re doing our first actual spell today, match to needle or something of the likes. We should be able to get this easily, you’ve improved greatly.”

Harry smirked at the very minor compliment he received, even if it was used for something other than to compliment him. He watched as the so-called Golden Trio, not that they were very golden, walked into the Great Hall – or as Draco put it, strut – and conversed between themselves. It didn’t take him long to learn that it wasn’t a healthy relationship, especially between Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, it was as if Granger simply remained with Longbottom because he was her only friend. Most, if not all, of Gryffindor were engrossed in the conversation that the Golden Trio were discussing, showering the Boy Who Lived in praise and compliments for saving the Wizarding world. It made Harry sick.

“It’s rather stupid, isn’t it?” muttered Draco, snapping Harry from his thoughts. “They bow and kiss his feet like the ground he walks on is sacred or something. No one around him has mentioned that his tie is tied incorrectly or that he isn’t wearing his robe! How disgraceful.”

“I always said that Longbottom would milk the fame he had,” said Harry, glaring towards the said boy. “People shrug off his failures, such as in potions, and claim that he shouldn’t have to be Ravenclaw smart or even try in lessons. I heard that he’s attempting to try-out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I wish that I still enjoyed Quidditch as I would have loved to beat him on the Quidditch pitch, even if was for only one game.”

Draco had no idea that his friend actually disliked Quidditch. He wasn’t able to reply to that titbit of information due to an owl hooting across the Great Hall. He glanced up and looked at the rather large and fluffy brown owl, who was carrying a dull-looking brown package.

The owl hooted once more, its large golden eyes trained on the Slytherin table as it slowly lowered its flight path so it was only about a meter above the heads of the students. It dropped the package directly over the first-year boy, who was eating toast.

Harry, on instinct, flicked his hand out and caught the package before it could slam into the table and throw food and drinks everywhere. He watched the owl hoot and landed next to him, clearly wanting to steal his food. He gently stroked the owl’s slightly mismatched feathers and handed it a piece of bacon.

The owl ate the bacon and quickly took flight from the spot next to the boy and flew out the open window above the students.

Harry held the large brown package in his hands, wondering what it could be as you never knew. He quickly pulled it from its position of hovering food and set it directly in front of him, gesturing at Rosier to clear the space.

Rosier, being the good friend he is, did it without question.

“It’s clearly a broomstick,” muttered Harry, not to himself, but the others. He waited and watched as all the other Slytherins, who just happened to be nearby, continued to watch, wondering why he got a broomstick.

“Open it,” said Rosier with a huff. “No need to be so... dramatic about it.”

“It’s not just _any_ broomstick, Harry,” said Draco, speaking over Rosier. “It’s a Nimbus 2000! It’s the fastest broomstick available! Look, a note! Read it! Go on.”

Harry picked up the note, rolling his eyes and began reading over the note. He deliberately took his time, knowing everyone wanted to know what the note said. “Dear Mr. Potter,” he began dramatically, “because you’re obviously the best flyer in the world, I’m gifting you this broom –”

Draco snatched the note and scanned it quickly before clearing his throat. “Mr. Potter. I have spoken to Marcus Flint regarding the conversation we had recently and he agreed to allow you to try-out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. As you’re aware, it’s not every day that a first-year is able to get onto the Quidditch team, nor have their own broom, but I am placing a rather large amount of confidence in your ability to fly and not cost us the Quidditch cup, which we have won five years in a row. Regardless, the broom will stay in my office until it’s time for matches. Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House.”

“Well that’s fantastic!” said Gemma with a wide smile. “Not that I care for Quidditch, but you’re just the build for a Seeker, too. Light – speedy – we’ll have to get you out to tryouts as soon as they start, if you don’t make the team I’m sure Professor Snape won’t mind someone else using the broom.”

“Isn’t someone else the Seeker?”

“Not at the moment. He graduated last year. He was on the team for five years, made it onto the team in his second-year. Won us all the cups.”

“So Slytherin has no Seeker at the moment?”

“Correct, Harry. A few of the Chasers can play Seeker, but not efficiently. Tryouts are being held soon,” said Gemma, looking towards Flint. “If the history books have anything to go by, you would be greatly suited for Chaser, like your father. But, you seem to be more built for the Seeker position.”

“You could very well be the youngest Seeker in centuries!” said Draco more excited for Harry than the achievement.

Marcus Flint, who was sitting up the end of the table, near the Great Hall doors, caught the commotion and glanced downwards, trying to assess the situation. He was confused on why a first-year, of all students, was given a broom at the table and not in private. He knew instantly that the kid must have some Quidditch talent if they were able to persuade the headmaster or their Head of House to allow them to have a broom.

“Who do you think got the broom?” asked Terence, leaning his head towards the commotion.

Flint licked his lips and stood slightly. “Potter,” he said bitterly, “of course.”

“I heard that Potter’s father was an amazing Chaser in his days at the school, even has an award on the third-floor for it,” said Terence as he chewed on a piece of bacon. “Honestly, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t discredit him or the talent he has a broom. Potter’s father most likely drilled Quidditch into him, hoping he’d go into Gryffindor.”

“Last I heard, they were Gryffindors.”

Terence sighed. “That means nothing, even more when Potter is a Slytherin, the Sorting Hat even said something at the end of sorting, that’s never happened before.”

“You just want to get in his pants, Higgs.”

“I’ll be out of Hogwarts before he even reaches puberty,” said Terence with a long sigh. “It was one dare. Merlin, forget it.”

“You ponce, Terence,” said Flint with a sneer. “If he was on the team, it’d just give you more material for your nightly sessions.”

“Can you shut your gob, Flint?” snapped Pucey, throwing down a piece of toast. “I’m trying to eat here. I really don’t want to hear about Terence’s nightly activities, even though majority of Slytherin know as the git forgets to use Silencing Charms.”

“If he throws a match, just kick him off the team,” said Terence, hiding his red face.

* * *

“Remember students, swish and flick!” said Professor Flitwick in his usual happy tone, he watched as the students did it and bounced on his pile of books. “You may freely practice on your feathers. If you need any help don’t be afraid to call out!” He watched over the students with a small smile, he was hoping Neville Longbottom would be the first to do this spell. Either way, it was such an honour for him to be teaching said boy.

Harry paused mid flick as he heard Hermione granger scold Weasley for the incorrect incantation. He smirked and focused back onto his feather, hoping that something exciting would come out of their argument.

“Stop, stop, STOP!” said Hermione loudly as Ron shook his wand about. “You’re saying it wrong! It’s levi-O-sa, not levi-O-sahh.”

“You do it then, if you’re so clever!”

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

“Oh, well done!” cheered Professor Flitwick loudly while clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss. Granger’s done it!”

The lesson ended almost uneventfully, besides the fact that some Gryffindor caused his feather to explode. The students quickly fled the class, chatting about the upcoming Hallowe’en Feast and planning to stuff themselves silly with food.

Harry was walking with Draco and Rosier and caught sight of the Golden Trio and a few stranglers. He tugged on Rosier’s robe and slowed, wanting to listen in.

Harry caught sight of Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ronald and Hermione all walking together, well near each other. Harry slowed Draco and Theodore down and hushed them and listened in to the conversation.

“Honestly, Dean, she’s a nightmare,” said Ron, dragging on the last word, almost mockingly. “It’s levi-O-sa, not levi-O-sahh.”

The group of boys chuckled, unaware that the girl was suddenly rubbing at her eyes.

“No wonder she hasn’t got any friends!”

Harry watched as Granger shoved into Ronald’s shoulder and stormed past with tears in her eyes, she walked off storming around everyone else and into the corridors, heading towards the girls’ lavatory, or that’s where he assumed girls went to cry. “Seems like the Golden Trio isn’t so golden after all.” He watched as Neville Longbottom scowled and chased after Hermione. “Seems as if he knows that she’s the only reason they haven’t failed in classes yet.

* * *

Harry sat with Draco on his left and Rosier on his right, his eyes glancing around the table, searching for one particular treat and when he didn’t see it he scowled at the table and muttered threats about burning it under his breath. “This is a waste of a feast.”

Draco just laughed, eating a candy apple.

“You could at least attempt to be sympathetic!” hissed Harry. “I was looking forwards to eating that tonight. All future Hallowe’en Feasts have been ruined by this one event.”

“Look – after we finish here, we’ll go to the kitchens and get you your damn treacle tart.”

“Good,” said Harry, leaning back with a smirk. “Rosier, hand me that candy apple.”

“What’d your last slave die of?”

“Nothing, he’s still alive, not doing job,” replied Harry, gesturing towards the candy apple. “Chop, chop.”

Rosier handed over the treat with narrowed eyes.

“Where’s Theodore?” asked Harry, noticing that the boy wasn’t with them.

“Not sure.”

“Maybe he’s with Granger, who is also missing?”

Draco made a gaging sound.

Before anything else could be said, the two large of the Great Hall flew opened, smashing loudly against the wall. Every student turned their heads to see what the commotion was, some even half-cheering until they noticed the pale professor who was shaking as if he had just seen a banshee.

“T-troll in the d-d-dungeons!” shouted Professor Quirrell in a shaky voice. “I j-just thought y-you ought to k-know!”

Harry watched as the professor dropped to the floor in a dead faint. He turned to Draco with a sigh and rubbed the side of his face. “So much for a decent professor.”

The students took a moment before it finally clicked in. A troll had killed the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

“Wonder if we can sneak to the kitchens before the troll destroys it?” asked Harry, who smirked and then turned towards the headmaster, who had a slightly annoyed expression on his face.

“SILENCE!” shouted Dumbledore, his wand letting off two loud bangs after he spoke, silencing the Great Hall. “Everyone will please, not panic. Now, Prefects will lead their Houses back to their dormitories. Professors, will follow me to the dungeons.”

In the next second the Great Hall erupted with various Prefects shouting their respected houses names and demanding that the first-years follow closely behind.

Harry was piecing a puzzle into his head, he stood on a seat and glanced at the headmaster, who had just met his eyes. “Excuse me sir!” he yelled, causing various eyes to fall on him and shouts for the houses to cease momentarily. “I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten, but the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons! Put the fact that the troll was said to be there… you’re sending us straight towards the troll!”

“Potter is right,” said Pansy Parkinson from next to the sixth-year Slytherin Prefect. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mr. Potter, I appreciate your concern, but the professors will be joining you,” said Dumbledore calmly, turning his gaze away from Harry.

Harry shrugged. “If all your professors faint at the sheer mention of a troll, even more-so one that specialized in Defence Against the Dark Arts, then I don’t really favour the odds of us surviving the encounter with the troll. Just saying.”

The room fell into silence.

“I have an idea,” said Harry, enjoying the tens silence. “Why don’t we send Longbottom into the dungeons and allow him to fight the troll? After all, he did defeat Voldemort and hasn’t done anything heroic in the previous years, perhaps the fates blessed him with a challenge.”

More than half of the Great Hall winced and looked over their shoulder the instant Voldemort’s name was said and the other half instantly came to Neville’s aid, defending him with various shouts of protest.

During all this, Rosier and Draco had silently dragged Harry from the Great Hall with no one noticing.

At least they assumed no one noticed.

“Nice distraction, Harry.”

“Thank you, Rosier.”

“So what’s the plan now?” asked Draco, walking after his friends who just turned around a corner, getting out of sight from the Great Hall.

“The troll should still be in the dungeons and by the time we get there, it’d be defeated and we can slip in.”

“What a great plan,” said Draco sarcastically, but followed along.

“Ugh, Draco, did you fart?”

“Excuse me?”

“That smell, can’t you smell it?”

“Rosier, Malfoys do not fart.”

“No, he’s right,” said Harry, pausing.

“Shut up, you git!”

“No, Draco, something smells and I know that it wasn’t you.”

Draco had a pleased look on his face until he turned and looked to the left and met the troll’s eyes. He wrapped his fingers over his nose, blocking the smell. It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

“I thought it was in the dungeons?” squeaked Rosier, taking a rather large step backwards.

“Shut up,” hissed Harry, staying still. “Don’t move!”

“Trolls don’t –”

“Trolls are stupid,” whispered Harry. “If we don’t move it could very well just stumble straight by us.”

The three of them stood perfectly still and watched as the troll beat down on a piece of armour.

“This won’t work, Harry.”

“Rosier, I’m going to distract it. I want you to take Draco –”

“No, Harry!” said Draco, his voice filled with shock.

“– and find Professor Snape.”

No warning was given, Harry flicked out his wand and threw a piece of armour at the troll. Dazed, the troll turned and swung at the piece of armour, facing away from the three boys, which gave them time to begin to run.

“Go, Draco, I’ll be fine,” said Harry, tossing another piece at the troll.”

* * *

“Professor Snape!” panted Draco, sliding into a stop just in front of the professor. “It’s Harry, he’s found the troll!”

Professor Snape sighed. “How he convinced the hat to not go into Gryffindor is beyond me.”

“Takes a real Slytherin to manipulate the Soring Hat.”

“You two need to go to the Slytherin common room, I’ll get Potter.”

The two first-year Slytherins looked as if they were planning to fight back at leaving their friend, but a dark scowl from their head of House sent them on their way.

Professor Snape quickly walked towards the floor and the corridor that he was told that his lost snake was apparently in, fighting a troll no less. He was sure that Harry could handle himself for a while, but eventually the boy would either tire or do something foolish and get clobbered by the troll. Lily would have his head if it were the latter.

He turned the corner towards the corridor and the sight nearly caused him to stumble.

He saw some sort of shield reflect the swing by the troll, the small boy holding his wand in a slack position, something of a confident yet lazy grip on it. The troll was relentless in its attacks, it swing and hammered on the shield that the boy had formed, without the spell even cracking or denting.

There were holes in the walls, rubble piled up the corridor. The troll clearly swinging its way towards the boy with no care in the world.

He couldn’t shout, else he would startle the boy and that could cause Harry to get hit. He had to bide his time and wait for an opening that the troll gave him. Despite being a stupid creature, they had knowledge on how to fight, much like a giant. Out of the corner of his dark eyes he saw the headmaster and the other professors coming this way. Curse Draco and Rosier failing to be Slytherins.

The group of professors slowly advanced. Before they could do anything a light shot from Harry Potter’s wand and flung the troll backwards. The beast stumbled on its legs before it fell in a lump on the ground.

The momentum of the troll’s swing didn’t cease and the club flew straight into the side of Harry Potter, hurling hi macros the corridor and into the half-destroyed wall.

Professor Snape surged forwards. The face the boy made no sound at all when he was hit caused worry to instantly fill him. “Harry?” he gently shook the boy, flicking off pieces of stone from the boy’s chest. “Harry?”

“Dead,” said Professor McGonagall, regarding the troll. “He killed it.”


	15. The Very First Quidditch Match

_Old Name_ : Quidditch

 _New Name_ : The Very First Quidditch Match

 _Rewritten_ : 16/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry felt fine, and this worried him, even before he had the urge to open his eyes nothing in his body hurt and as much as it pained it to admit, it worried him more than anything he had ever experienced in his life. Perhaps it was because he expected to be in a world of pain, even with magic and potions that can cure almost any disease instantly, after being slammed across the side of his body with a club which was about ten times his weight.

Finally giving into the urge, he creaked open his eyes, allowing only a fine line of his vision to see into the space which he was occupying. He instantly realized that he wasn’t where he should be, and instead was where he didn’t want to be.

“You sleep like the dead.”

Harry turned to the voice, the lack of pain made him already know where he was. “You mean to tell me that I died to a troll?”

“It was, of course, hit and miss for a while. I watched.”

“I died to a troll!” repeated Harry, expelling a large breath.

“To be fair, you killed it also, so I guess it balances out.”

Harry grumbled under his breath and threw himself into a nearby sofa, which was more comfortable than it seemed. “How’d I die?”

“You didn’t slow the club before you attacked, because you’re an idiot and listen to nothing I say,” said the man, holding a piece of long parchment. “After you killed the troll, the club continued to swing at you. When it collided with you, it shattered half your body, but you survived.”

“And?” said Harry after the man lapsed into silence.

“Eventually your mother, who was crying enough tears to rival half the water on Earth, convinced them that you weren’t in a state to travel with magic and that any method could kill you and she wasn’t getting on a broomstick. They decided that they would call in some professional healers and attempt to save you. Every professor threw in their help but the most helpful was by far Professor Quirrell. He seems to know a lot.”

“That’s surprising, what’d my father do?”

“He killed you.”

“WHAT?”

“It wasn’t intentional of course,” said the man throwing a gesture with his hand. “You must understand that he did what he was taught in his Auror training. They sat above you for something like twelve hours before he made the mistake and he killed his son. This is an issue, however.”

“My own father killed me, pleasant.”

“He’ll always live with the guilt that he killed his son, even when I return you back to the land of the living.”

“That’s your doing, I assume?” asked Harry softly.

“No,” said the man bluntly. “Your father is different from us, Harry.”

Harry sat in silence, thinking.

“I change people, Harry, you must understand that his actions will be much more powerful than his words. His methods of coping are not something I condone, but I mustn’t spoil it.”

“Don’t get all soft on me,” said Harry, laughing.

“Take this as lightly as you wish. You’ll see in time,” said the man. “When you return, you’ll be in pain. It’ll teach you to undermine me.”

* * *

Harry screamed when he opened his eyes. The screamed echoed off the walls of the Hospital Wing. His hands clenched against the soft white sheet that was draped over him. His mind was processing all the time that he missed in the land of the living and his body was reacting to the pain that he didn’t experience while he was gone. It was as if every potion that he was given to numb the pain vanished the moment he came back.

A man with pure white robes and soft light-brown hair was hovering over the screaming boy with something with shock filling his eyes. It took all but a second before he snapped back into Healer mode and barked orders at his secretary to fetch potions and start preparing the small boy for his treatment. “Alright, Harry,” he soothed, his tone soft and gentle, “you’ll be fine.”

The ordeal was long and tiring, but the healers got the boy under control and spelled him to sleep, allowing themselves a few moments of rest as they dealt with the mother, who was staring wide eyed at them with the same look that her son gave when he noticed them.

“Is he okay?” asked Lily, inching forwards towards the healer so she could get a better look at her son.

“Yes, Mrs. Potter,” said the brown-haired healer in the same soothing he used for the patient. “It was a very close call, but we’re sure we have him under control. He’ll need a lot of rest and probably some very close tending to that he was he doesn’t slip into a coma, but he’ll be fine and will make a complete recovery and will be running around and doing what boys his age tend to do.”

Lily nodded, and kept nodding to each word that was spoken, it was all that she could do. The miracle that her son had lived was something that she treasured and she would make sure he had a safe time at Hogwarts, if it meant that she would come and ‘Harry-proof’ the entire school. She had pleaded that the faculty keep Harry’s condition private and that no one except the Malfoys knew about it.

She listened to the rest of the longwinded speech that the healer gave her and nodded happily to each of it with her eyes trained on her son, who was now in view and she could see his chest slowly rising and falling on the bed.

“Alright,” said the healer, shifting slightly on the spot and twisting to look at the boy. “I need to go and get his daily potions sorted.”

Lily flicked her long hair out of her face and leant against the doorframe. She’d have to go and find her husband and let him know that their son was alive. It wouldn’t do to send an owl or a Patronus.

* * *

Harry and Draco walked towards the Great Hall, slowly, for breakfast. For the previous week Draco had been always ready to wait on Harry and made sure that he was alright. The moment that his friend had left the safety confines of the Hospital Wing he was ready to do what no Malfoy had ever done before and that was to make sure his best friend was happy and safe. No one mentioned the troll incident, it was long forgotten and the talk of the school was simply that Longbottom was caught in the girls’ lavatory with Granger by a seventh-year Prefect.

“I cannot believe that I’m being forced to wake up before nine on a Saturday!” whined Draco. “It’s so unfair!”

“Of course it is, Draco,” said Harry, adjusting his tie. “Why do we have to wear these damn things?”

“It’s a part of the Hogwarts uniform and ties are great fashion accessories anyway. So, are you excited for the tryouts today? I am.”

Ah, the tryouts. It took Harry a lot of begging and promises that he could play and wouldn’t harm himself while he did it. Of course Professor Snape and his mother didn’t believe him and he had to tell them how it was. If he couldn’t try-out for the team, then people would get suspicious.

“These doors should automatically open for us,” said Harry, shoving at the Great Hall doors. “How do they expect a first-year student to open them? They weigh so much.”

Draco just chuckled and sat at his usual spot at the Slytherin table.

Harry gave Draco a smile and gave Rosier a slight wave, who had just pushed open the Great Hall doors, and focused on his food instead of the idle discussion that was happening around him. Of course he knew that Pansy and Daphne could gossip all day and night if they ever tried, but he never really spoke to the any of the girls in Slytherin, at least the first-year girls. He slowly picked up a piece of toast, which was coated in butter as he liked it. He didn’t want to draw any attention to his eating habits, so he ate the toast slowly.

As he slowly ate the piece of toast, he allowed his mind to freely move over all the information he had learned while he was at the school. He knew something wasn’t right with a few pieces, and even if he had been here for only a month and  a few weeks, he knew that it was something that he had no idea what it was yet. It was like a pull towards something or someone and no matter how much he tried to utilize his Occlumency barriers, it seemed to seep through.

He knew one thing was certain, and that was the fact that the slight pull was aimed towards a certain corridor on the third-floor. The forbidden one. It felt like a compulsion or if something or someone was tugging at his mind and demanding that he go and investigate the corridor once more, especially after he noticed that three-headed dog. He may have done some stupid Gryffindor stunt with the troll, but a troll is vastly different from a three-headed dog. He had some self-preservation.

He wondered what he could even say, something like, “Hey Draco, want to come down the third-floor corridor with me and poke at the three-headed dog like some insane Gryffindors?”

He scoffed at the thought, mainly to stop himself from laughing at the reaction that would appear on his best friend’s face. He continued to eat his toast, shoving the thought about the damn corridor away, not that it helped as his mind continued to remain on the third-floor corridor. He did wonder if he could coerce the stupid oaf known as Hagrid to spill some details about it, as he knew that the oaf knew something. Perhaps he could try his luck on the Golden Trio as well, he knew plenty of dirt on Longbottom and could threaten to spread it around if he wasn’t given what he wanted.

He did debate about using Legilimency to get his answers, but he had promised his mother that he wouldn’t use his talents for evil or on professors. Plus manipulating people was more fun and required a chase.

“Harry?” said Draco, watching the boy who was in a reverie. “What are you thinking about? Also, the butter on your piece of toast – which mind you is horribly disgusting – is dripping onto the table in an uncouth manner.”

“Oh.”

“Clean it,” hissed Draco, turning back to his own food momentarily.

Harry shifted the piece of toast over a plate and watched as the buttered from it and landed onto the plate. “I think that I learned a lesson today. And that’s to not put so much butter on my toast.”

“Hmph.”

“Hey, Draco, can I ask you something?”

Draco turned back towards his friend with a single eyebrow arched, his face set in one of confusion before it cleared and his lips turned into a slight smirk. “Of course, but… you just did ask me something. Seeing as I, Draco Malfoy, am such a good friend – wait, no – a great friend, I’ll allow you to ask another.”

Harry snorted and muttered git under his breath before straightening up. “Do you think that it’s possible for magic to pull you towards something, like some sort of compulsion on something? For example, a powerful magical artefact. Do you think that it could be coated, covered in a spell or enchantment that would make someone follow it, regardless of what it is and make the said person try and figure out what it is?”

“That was two questions and not one,” said Draco with a scowl. “For the first question that you asked I can assure you that magic can be highly sentimental if it wishes to be. We just wield magic, not own it. A prime example is this castle. The four founders poured their magic into it and gave it a base ground of where the magic flowed and you know the rest – add in each generation of student and the magic cast in the castle and you have Hogwarts, in its entire sentimentally. We’re just lucky the castle likes the students.”

“That could be questioned in a few different ways.”

“It’s hard to explain clearly, but an object can pull you towards it if it has been laced with magic, normally the items have been placed under various traps to lure thieves and such to it and then be killed.”

That was the answer that Harry actually expected, he just needed to make sure that his mind was in the correct place and that he wasn’t really overthinking the whole ordeal. “Thank you, Draco, that’s what I assumed.”

“You finished?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” said Harry and then paused, noticing their Head of House walking towards them. “Wait, let’s wait a moment.”

Harry was wrong. Professor Snape was making his way towards the Golden Trio, or Duo, as Hermione granger was surprisingly enough absent.

Draco, at the moment, turned and watched what was going on. The entire Great Hall fell into a hushed tone, waiting for the inevitable. “Perhaps he’s going to give them detention.”

Professor Snape stopped just in front of Longbottom and Weasley and gave them his trademark sneer. “What is that you have got there, Longbottom?” he sneered at them more and watched as both boys slightly flinched. His eyes were boring into their heads, making sure to cause them as much discomfort as possible.

Neville slightly lifted the book, showing it to Professor Snape, he was slightly whimpering, but it wasn’t that obvious to anything else. “I’m just reading _Quidditch through the Ages_. Trying to learn a bit more about Quidditch.”

Professor Snape gave him a cruel look before slightly sneering. “Library books should not be brought into the Great Hall, especially when you’re eating next to the book,” he gave Neville a disdainful look and continued on with his tormenting. “Give it to me. That will also be five points from Gryffindor.”

Neville watched as Professor Snape took the book with his trademark sneer and then limped away quietly. He debated mentioning that it wasn’t from the library and that it was Hermione’s book and that he didn’t have to give it up. “I swear he just made that rule up!” he muttered angrily towards his best friend. “Do you know what happened to his leg?”

“I dunno, mate,” said Ron while chewing a rather large piece of sausage, he swallowed it and then looked at Neville with a slight smile. “Whatever happened, he deserves it, honestly.”

It was about that time the Great Hall’s noise peeked again, most whispering about how the famed Boy Who Lived continued to break rules and such other nonsense.

Harry turned back to Draco with a smirk on his face. “Sometimes I actually wonder if Professor Snape enjoys harassing Gryffindors,” he thought on it for a moment before deciding that he was right. “Yeah, he does.”

Draco snorted and sat down for a moment before he realized that the tryouts were soon. “There’s two hours before the Slytherin tryouts, which means we must get you ready.”

Harry lifted both his eyebrows and stood perfectly still.

“Don’t look at me like that, if Longbottom is learning about Quidditch he may be using his fame to get a position on the Gryffindor team.”

* * *

Harry sat on a bench that was just to the side of the Quidditch Pitch with his eye on the crowd of Slytherins who were happily chatting between each other and discussing what position they wanted. He watched in silence as a few stragglers for the Slytherin team arrived and stood with the large crowd, others doing what he did and spread off and sat alone or with a friend.

Terence Higgs smiled at the gathering of Slytherins that were gathering around the Quidditch pitch and silently assessed them. Of course he wasn’t even near the Captaincy level for the team, but that didn’t stop him from seeing who had potential and who didn’t. He mainly looked for those that played Chaser and had the build for it. He caught Harry Potter’s eye and gave the small boy a smile before resuming what he was doing previously.

He shifted and stood near Miles Bletchley. “Seen anyone decent?”

“Nah,” replied Miles with a shake of his head. “There’s not many people here that could fit the role of Seeker right.”

Marcus Flint stood like a giant compared to some of the students, he looked down on them with a slight sneer on his face. He made a grunting noise and watched as all eyes turned to him. “Alright,” he barked out loudly, “we’re only searching for a Seeker. Chaser, Beater and Keeper are fine how they are.”

A murmur of discussion started, idle chatter mingled in with sighs.

“Be quiet,” snapped Marcus Flint, his eyes roaming over the crowd. “I’ve never seen a better Keeper than Miles and Terence has his moments as a Chaser, as does Adrian. In a few weeks, after we’ve found our Seeker, you can challenge them if you wish, but not now.”

The crowd dispersed slowly, leaving only a small amount of people behind.

“We’ll start with seventh-years and go down the list,” said Flint, his eyes turned to the first seventh-year Seeker and gestured towards a broom.

Harry watched from the bench that he was sitting on as each person that was called up and asked to catch the Snitch utterly failed. Some did well and caught the Snitch, but in perfect weather and conditions like this, with no distractions, it should be simple to catch. One fifth-year boy tumbled off his broom on the landing, after failing to catch the Snitch. He turned at looked at the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, who looked utterly defeated and furious at the same time.

The last second-year climbed off his broom, panting. Sweat trickled down his face as he breathed harshly, trying to regain his composure.

“You need to get in shape,” said Terence leaning against his broom. “That was utterly pathetic.”

Harry heard his name called and he quickly stood up and made his way over towards the four of the Quidditch team. He stopped just in front of each of them, as they looked over him and thrust a broom into his hand.

“Good luck, Potter,” said Miles and Terence together.

Adrian and Marcus remained quiet and instead prepared to release the Snitch.

Harry was hovering in the sky, the feeling of flying instantly washing over him. He would play Quidditch just so he could fly freely during the days at Hogwarts. It was such a great feeling. He saw Marcus Flint release the little golden ball, his eyes followed it instantly, he waited until he was given the signal to chase it.

“He’s fast,” said Terence to Marcus Flint as he watched the first-year speed after the Golden Snitch. “He’s the perfect build for Seeker – small and fast.”

Marcus said nothing, but he did give Terence a little grunt so the boy knew that he acknowledged what he had said. He watched the first-year with disdain, he watched as the boy swerved through the air and was just a fingertip away from the Snitch. He didn’t like Potter, and no matter if he was offered a position on the best Quidditch team in the world, he’d never admit that he did. He didn’t want Potter on the Quidditch team for obvious reasons. The pain and drama wouldn’t be worth it and they couldn’t even trust the boy. Potter was nothing but unreliable.

“He is a decent flier,” said Miles from the side. “Unlike Terence, my opinion isn’t biased.”

Marcus Flint grunted.

“What do you have against Potter, Flint?” asked Terence as he turned his head to watch the first-year soar through the air. He caught the boy wrap his hand around the Golden boy and sport a triumphant grin. “He caught it in less than five minutes. That’s nothing short of astonishing.”

“The conditions are perfect, it shouldn’t be hard.”

“No one else even came close to reaching the time he caught it in.”

Miles looked as if he was in deep though for a second. “I don’t think Jacob was that fast either. Wasn’t his trial time like six and something minutes?”

“Yes,” said Adrian, finally speaking.

Terence took the Golden Snitch from Potter with a smile and gave a very soft nod and sent him off to the bench with Draco Malfoy. “He’s probably the best Seeker I’ve ever seen. I’m sure he’d even give Jacob a run for his money.”

Marcus Flint sighed and turned towards Miles, who appeared as if he was in thought.

“Think of it this way, Marcus. Snape wouldn’t have gotten him a broom unless he knew the boy could fly. He got the broom before Potter even came to try-out. Snape knew that Potter can fly and he sealed it before the boy could decline the change to play for the team.”

Terence took the Snitch from Potter and watched as he gave a small smile and a curt nod and rushed over and sat with Draco. “He’s phenomenal, you may have something against him, but I know damn well that Professor Snape would have got him a broom if he didn’t think Potter would make it on the team.”

“Both his parents were Gryffindors,” said Flint, unsure of how that was a solid argument, but it was all that he had. “He could be making us lose the match so that our streak is ruined.”

“If Potter did that then he’d be shunned in Slytherin. I’m sure even Malfoy would turn on him.”

“How do you not know who Potter’s father is?” said Terence in an exasperated tone. “James Potter. Head Auror. Part of the Marauders, c’mon, Flint!”

“The Marauders?”

“Do you lot live under a rock? The Marauders were pretty much founded by Potter’s father. The group tormented Snape endlessly in school and it’s known that the two have a very long line of pranks and attacks on each other. They’ve apparently made up now, but Snape will never rest with it.”

“And?”

“And this is a perfect way for Snape to get back at James Potter, using his own son to get the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin.”

Marcus Flint said nothing else and stood there silently, debating it. He never really looked into the whole Marauder thing that spouted up a few years ago. Of course, now that it held some relevance he thought back to it and suddenly remembered that the whole ordeal was bought up again when James Potter came and spoke to a few Gryffindors. He let out a heavy breath and turned to Terence, giving him an accepting nod and then turned and did the same to Professor Snape, who was observing the tryouts as he usually did.

“That was pretty amazing flying, Potter,” said Terence, standing directly in front of the boy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone fly so well, not even the professionals can fly that fast.”

Harry turned and smiled at the boy. “Thanks, Higgs.”

“I think we’re a bit beyond surnames now.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Harry, pausing slightly for a moment. “Terence.”

An odd facial expression appeared on Terence’s face for a moment before it was covered and a smile took its place. “I’m sure you got the spot, it took a bit of convincing to get Flint to see some sense.”

“If it wasn’t me, it’d have been Draco.”

“Oh?”

“Draco can fly just as well as me,” said Harry bluntly, looking at his friend. “I taught Draco whatever my father taught me whenever I went over this his manor. Draco’s a pretty quick learner and picked up on things pretty quickly. He’d be a good reserve in the future.”

Terence gave a small nod and made an excuse to flee. He quickly stopped by Flint. “If it doesn’t work out with Harry… Potter then we could use Malfoy as they both know about the same. I’d say Potter is a bit more advanced then Malfoy, but the same applies.”

“They could even share the role next year,” threw in Miles.

“That’d confuse the other teams pretty good.”

Flint muttered something and glanced across the field, observing the general area of the pitch. “Weasley graduated last year, he was a competent Seeker, but I don’t know who will replace him on Gryffindor this year. I’m certain that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw don’t pose a threat, but Gryffindor do.”

“Knowing how the professors are acting towards Longbottom, I could almost suggest that it would be him that was chosen as Gryffindors Seeker, although, I could be wrong.”

“Would you quit shifting from foot to foot, Terence?”

“He thinks it stops us from noticing,” said Adrian from the side, smirking. “Get lost and take care of your issue, Terence, you dirty git.”

* * *

The noise in the Slytherin common room was almost deafening and louder than usual. Most of the chatter revolving around the upcoming Quidditch match, which caused most people to join in one large discussion, which was louder than several small conversations. Of course, a large majority was about Gryffindor’s new Seeker and speculation on who it could be and who it couldn’t be. While the boy’s pretty much huddled up over the sport, the girls rolled their eyes and split off into their own little groups, gossiping.

The first-year students were encouraged to get out of their safe zone and speak to the other students. That was why Harry was sitting in the corner of the common room with Draco and Rosier studying a Herbology book. Water pushed at the large windows of the Slytherin common room with unruly force, as if it wanted to be the focus and not the conversation.

“Is this right?” asked Rosier, slyly slipping his piece of homework towards Harry. “I’m not sure.”

Harry slipped his Herbology work towards Draco and peered at Rosier’s work. “This parts wrong – oh, and this part.”

Rosier sighed and snatched his work back and glared at the piece of parchment.

After around an hour the numbers thinned and the common room was back to how it usually is, half empty. Most were getting ready to sleep and others had simply rushed out with the hour of curfew left to return books or get some more. The three first-year boys who were still checking over their work were some of the last few to leave the common room and head towards their respective dormitory.

Harry climbed into his bed, instantly enjoying the warmth the covers provided from the cold and harsh dungeon floor on his sockless feet. He turned on his side, facing the closed curtains that was facing the wall to his right. His mind settled back into the thoughts on Professor Quirrell, the useless professor. Over the previous few days the two had been talking and chatting idly about magic and all that stuff. He found that the professor wasn’t half bad and that he clearly knew what he was talking about. Of course, he noticed a shift within the professor at times, but it was put down to the man’s paranoia about everything.

<\- **START FLASHBACK** - >

_“Professor, why are a lot of curses or spells that are considered to be attuned to the darker side of magic forbidden?” asked Harry in a soft, innocent tone of voice. “I’ve thought about this for the entire year, since I was ten and found a calling in spells. You see, I can see a pretty decent reason behind it, but even that reason is flawed and I cannot grasp it. We don’t want people running around throwing spells that can cut people in half or maim them badly, but not all spells are bad.”_

_Professor Quirrell paused and slowly turned his head towards the innocent sounding voice. He knew who it belonged to the moment he heard it. “Mr. P-Potter. I d-didn’t expect t-to see y-you in the l-library.”_

_“I’m sorry if I startled you, professor,” said Harry, holding the man’s gaze. “I saw you walking bye and the sudden thought had hit me.”_

_“T-this is very d-dark stuff you’re t-talking about, Mr. P-Potter.”_

_“I know… that is why… I came to you.”_

_Professor Quirrell drew in a sharp breath. “Of course, Mr. Potter. What w-would you l-like to k-know?”_

_“Magic is a gift, professor, I see that now. I – we have been blessed by the fates that we are worthy to wield such a powerful tool. Magic makes the seemingly impossible able to happen without much hassle. We can tell when people lie to us. We can control others with a simple flick of our hands. Forgive me, I am rambling.”_

_“No, Mr. P-Potter, c-continue, it’s f-fine.”_

_“Thank you, professor. You may correct me if I am wrong or if my opinion is wrong – I haven’t done much studying on the three Unforgivable Curses and I realize they’re not really covered until much later academically. I trust that you won’t run off to the headmaster.” Harry waited for the smallest nods before he would continue, wanting the man’s word that he wouldn’t rush back to the headmaster about this. When he got it, he continued in a hushed whisper. “I’ll start with the most known unforgivable: the Killing Curse. Just imagine that someone – a witch or wizard – is in severe pain. You’ve tried every remedy that you know. Every potion that you could get your hands on and the witch or wizard has begged for death, claimed that it’s their time to go. They cannot eat or drink without you shoving it down their throat. They’re dying very slowly – painfully. Wouldn’t the Killing Curse be the correct option here as it’s supposedly painless? Muggles have a very similar method. They call it euthanasia or something like that.”_

_Professor Quirrell nodded along, with a small gesture with his hand he made the boy continue speaking about the subject._

_“Moving onto the second unforgivable: the Imperius Curs,” said Harry softly, still whispering. “This one is simple and doesn’t need much of an explanation. It could allow for potentially dangerous situations to be defused and ended without bloodshed. This could work for both worlds – wizarding and Muggle.”_

_“Go on,” said Professor Quirrell when the conversation lapsed into silence._

_“I adore history,” continued Harry, looking for the word to describe his love for history. “History allows me – us to learn about the failures of other people and improve on them. Let’s use World War II as an example. It lasted six years and one day. Besides the length and the ferocity of the war, it could have put the magical world in danger. An explosive could have gone in the wrong direction and hit Hogwarts or even Diagon Alley. Of course, the magical world was dealing with our own war at the time, so it was World War II for the Muggles and I guess a Magical War for us.”_

_“I don’t u-understand what this h-has to do with the I-Imperius Curse.”_

_“I apologize, I get off track whenever I talk about war. It’s a fascinating subject,” said harry sheepishly. “Both wars could have been stopped using the Imperius Curse. If not the magical one, the Muggle one. As you know, it was Hitler that inspired Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert Grindelwald sought to create a worldwide wizarding empire, which would overturn the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and force the Muggle population into slavery, according to books. Muggles have a population in the billions. It’s simply not possible to rule them with an iron fist, but that’s not what I personally would like.”_

_“You wouldn’t?”_

_“No, I don’t agree with using Muggles as slaves at all,” said Harry. “I agree with Voldemort, at least slightly – don’t jump at his name, please. I know that people fear his name and that in itself surprises me and leaves me a little in awe that so many people still fear the man. Only a weak-willed Wizard cannot say Voldemort’s name. Regardless, I believe we should segregate from Muggles completely. Find a location for ourselves, especially in Europe and stop mingling with Muggles completely.”_

_“This is a v-very s-s-serious topic, Mr. P-Potter.”_

_“I know, professor.”_

_Professor Quirrell remained silent for a moment, his already pale face went a few shades whiter at the sheer amount of trust the boy was placing in him. He was confused on how this boy already had the ideals and thoughts to drive himself into a position that some would fear. The boy standing in front of him with mock concern in his eyes was manipulative. The trust that the boy had for him was non-existent and clearly had something in mind if he did rush off and tattle on him. He thought for a moment and it finally clicked. The boy didn’t trust him at all and believed he had ulterior motives. He bit back a laugh._

_“You a-agree with V-V-Voldemort,” he stuttered out, the stutter sounding more genuine than ever, “on what level? As f-far as I h-have seen a-and read, V-Voldemort didn’t a-agree to s-segregation, j-just k-killing.”_

_“Killing will just draw attention to us, at least with – forget it… it’ll just bring attention to our world,” said Harry in a snappish tone, his eyes filling with annoyance. He kept his voice down, that way Madam Pince wouldn’t come around and scold him for shouting in her library. “It’s not hard to even think that the Muggles have advanced far too quickly for us to keep up with. They have tanks, bombs that can flatten a city in seconds and kill hundreds of thousands of people without much issue. We cannot fight them, professor. We cannot kill them, enslave them, or wipe them out. If we want to survive, we have to move from them.”_

_“Wizards will n-not be h-happy about that.”_

_“They’ll do what they’re told!”_

_Professor Quirrell once more bit back a laugh._

_“In both worlds, the Wizarding and Muggle, the rules and regulations are created by a government that is normally corrupt in every single aspect. The Ministry of Magic is far worse than anything Voldemort ever did. They deny us knowledge with the claim that what we’re trying to learn is evil and should be forgotten. They try and shove us away from knowledge, simply because they fear it. So what if a curse can cause death? I could throw a book at someone and it could kill, should we start to ban all books?”_

_“You m-make a v-valid point, Mr. P-Potter,” stuttered out Professor Quirrell, looking gleeful. “Now, Mr. P-Potter, what w-would you d-do if you h-h-had some p-power?”_

_“Depends on what sort of power you mean,” said Harry, a questioning glint in his eye. “If its raw magical talent then I would seek using that raw power to attain what I want and if I ever sought to make a stand in the Ministry, a lot of laws would be abolished. People follow out of loyalty, not fear. I’d never use force to make someone follow my orders, instead use my words to make them think they believe what I saw is the best option. I would never end up like Voldemort and attack fellow wizards. We’re thin enough already, no need to kill over blood, that’s stupidity.”_

_“Oh?” said Professor Quirrell weekly._

_“I believe that both Gellert Grindelwald and Voldemort were on a path, perhaps not the correct one or one that would lead them to successful lives as a Dark Lord, but a path nonetheless. They each had a certain goal and used whatever tools they had to attempt to achieve it and both met a downfall – but in the end both their names became taboo and feared, and I guess that deserves some form of respect.”_

_“I s-see.”_

_“You’ve been rather quiet, professor, what do you think about Voldemort?” asked Harry, noticing the look of shock on the professor’s face. He gave a weak smile. “Don’t worry, professor, with everything that I have said would net me in more trouble than what you could tell me.”_

_“I do believe in w-what V-V-Voldemort b-believed in and f-faugh for, but t-thinking on it n-now, I t-think you m-may be c-correct. I b-believe if V-V-Voldemort was s-still a-alive, you w-would give him a fair r-run for h-his G-G-Galleons.”_

_“You believe that Voldemort actually died?” asked Harry, his face filling with delight._

_Professor Quirrell nodded._

_“From what I’ve read regarding Voldemort, which mind you, isn’t much at all, it’s that a body was never really found and that the Death Eater marks never faded. You must remember the marks are clearly made using his magic and his magic would fade if he moved beyond the veil. Even if people call Voldemort a monster, he was human and he had a body and wasn’t a lowly spirit.” Harry paused, glancing between the door and the professor. “I don’t believe that Longbottom, of all people, could defeat Voldemort entirely. How does a one year old child defeat one of the most powerful men in the last decade? Even more, one as incompetent as Longbottom.”_

_“You think that V-Voldemort is s-still out there?”_

_“I believe that he never really died. Maybe he made a miscalculation and had a setback, but he’s still out there… getting more powerful. But he’s nowhere to be found – maybe he’s just not in Britain.”_

_Professor Quirrell was pure white, as white as the snow in the winter. “W-What about h-his followers? Most w-went towards t-the light s-side, if V-Voldemort was alive, then w-wouldn’t they be k-killed?”_

_“You don’t believe that his followers, even the ones that were supposedly loyal to him would actually change their allegiances that easily?” said Harry in a very soft voice. “I am quite positive that most did what they had to – adapted for survival in the changing world. You can bet if he suddenly returned today. A vast majority of his followers would be at his side, ready to continue his cause.”_

_“None sought out their m-master, perhaps a-afraid to find h-him?”_

_“Voldemort claimed he was immortal, countless times,” said Harry gesturing towards a book on Dark Arts. “No one believes it. It’s foolish to believe someone can come back from the dead.”_

_“B-but, Mr. P-Potter, by that you mean t-that he is d-dead.”_

_“You misunderstand, I don’t believe he ever died. A Killing Curse rebounded and hit him, which cannot be tested in everyday situations as it’s such an odd occurrence.” Harry said nothing more on that and went back to the previous topic. “Voldemort may have fallen, but his ideals and goals didn’t. Regardless of beliefs, a basic human instinct has always been to survive. Do you really think that people really gave up on believing Voldemort was dead? I can assume the people who were closer to him refused to give up. They just acted and the Ministry believed them.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“I’m afraid I must cut this discussion short, professor, else I’ll be late to Potions, and you know how Professor Snape can get when his students are late to his lesson.”_

<\- **END FLASHBACK** - >

* * *

Harry awoke early in the morning, the sheets on his bed twisted and turned in multiple directions, pulled out from being tucked in and pillows knocked onto the floor. He sent the bed a quick glance that explained his entire displeasure about how he slept and sleepily got up, tossing one of the pillows onto the middle of his bed. He couldn’t remember the dream or nightmare that he had, and judging by the state of his bed, he was thankful for it. He glanced out the window that was in the dormitory – despite water covering the windows, allowing a soft green tinge to fill the room – he could clearly make out the grey clouds that loomed over the morning sky. He knew that today would be cold and most likely chilly in terms of weather with rain most likely following the morning chill. Muttering about rain and terrible whether, he picked up a bundle of clothes and made his way towards the bathroom.

It was about an hour later when Harry and Draco entered the Great Hall happily chatting about the day and Quidditch, although the former wasn’t that interested in the discussion. Food appeared and they slowly ate, like before, the former didn’t really eat. Harry just stared out the large windows that allowed natural light to pour into the Great Hall. He looked as the grey clouds formed directly over the sun, either covering it from view or trying to submerge it clouds of grey. Between the time that he had woken up and made his way towards the Great Hall, the clouds had multiplied and become more aggressive in their approach to take over the sky, threatening to release their built up water.

The Great Hall began to fill up with excited chatter about the upcoming Quidditch match, after all it’s not every day that a first-year is on a Quidditch team, let alone two.

“I cannot believe that Longbottom was actually offered a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team,” said Harry grumpily, looking over towards Longbottom, who was sitting there rather smugly. “Look at him! He’s incompetent and does nothing right!” he speared a piece of bacon and sneered at Longbottom. “Most likely used his name and his fame to get a position on the Quidditch team. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Draco snorted into his hand and just nodded his head along with his friend’s rants about the Boy-Who-Lived. He did agree with some points, so those nods were more genuine and actually resembled his inner feelings.

“It’s ridiculous!” continued Harry as he shoved around the food on his plate, glaring at it like it was the source of all his issues in the world.

“Stop pushing around your food and just eat it!” said Draco with a sigh. He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You can rant and complain about the unfairness of your life after you have eaten. I know you far too well, Harry. You’ll not eat and five minutes before you need to do something, you’ll complain that you’re hungry and that your stomach will rumble and demand food.”

Harry muttered under his breath, nothing was understandable and it sounded mostly like soft whining with a few strings that sounded like ‘yes mother’ involved. He realized that Draco was staring at him with a confused look, which was good as it meant he wasn’t heard. “Nothing, nothing I – I’m not hungry.”

“Liar!” hissed Draco, openly glaring at his friend with suspicious eyes. “I know you’re hungry, you just refuse to eat.”

“I don’t want anything,” said Harry with emotion in his eyes. “I don’t like any of this!”

Draco rolled his eyes, not believing that look that he was given by his friend, it may have worked a few times, but not this time. He picked up Harry’s plate and began to place food on it, making sure none touched and that it was only Harry’s favourite foods, that way said boy couldn’t complain and then use that as an excuse not to eat it, as he usually would and does. He placed the plate in front of Harry and smiled at him. “Eat it. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“You didn’t have to vanish what was already on my plate.”

“But you didn’t like it.”

Harry sighed and stabbed another piece of bacon with slow movements, fully aware that his friend was watching him. He did deliberate movements that made it look as if he was eating a lot, but in reality he was hardly eating anything. He had hoped the small amount that he had eaten would get Draco off his case about it. No such luck. He knew at that moment that Draco wouldn’t be dropping this and if it got to be so severe of him not eating, Draco would pick up a fork and force feed him. After a minute of pursed lips, he finally picked up the fork once again and placed food into his mouth, forcing himself to not glare at the smile that he notice don his friend’s face.

* * *

“Harry,” whispered Lily, her voice going straight into her son’s ear. She watched him tens slightly before relaxing and spinning around to meet her in a mixture of an embrace and a handshake. “I’ve missed you, Harry.”

“Mother,” whined Harry, pulling from the embrace with reddened cheeks. “I missed you too, but I had no idea that you would be here today. You should have wrote ahead.”

“It’s not every day that your son joins the Quidditch team in his first year at school. You’re the first, first-year to join a team in centuries, it was hardly letter worthy to congratulate you.”

“What can I say, I’m talented –”

“I do wish you spent your time doing more than playing around on useless brooms,” interrupted Lily, her eyes narrowed. “Studying or something. You cannot go wrong with studying.”

“You’re lucky that father isn’t around to hear you badmouthing Quidditch,” said Harry with a smile. “You just gave a Slytherin some pretty decent blackmail material.”

Lily messed up her son’s hair and stood back with a chuckle.

“That was uncalled for!”

“Truce?”

“Truce,” agreed Harry, taking a step forwards. “You know that I just love flying. I haven’t enjoyed Quidditch in years. I care very little for the actual sport.”

“Is that so?” a voice called from behind Lily. “I’m not sure whether I should be hurt or not.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You should be proud that I made the Quidditch team in my first-year. I am after all, the youngest Seeker in centuries.”

“Even if it is for Slytherin,” said James in a tense sounding voice. He stepped forwards and wrapped his son in a loose hug. “I’m very proud, Harry. Lily and I came to watch your first game, I hope you don’t mind.”

Harry wasn’t even aware that parents could come and watch Quidditch games, he assumed it was reserved for students only. Perhaps he was only allowed because the headmaster adored his father or because he was the Head Auror. He never really noticed that before that his father could and would abuse his position as the Head Auror to get what he wanted. It was rather Slytherin. Oh, he had to rub that in.

“You look lost in thought,” said Lily, leaning forwards slightly.

“I was just thinking, so I guess you’re right, mother.”

“What about?”

“How Slytherin father can be at times.”

Lily laughed and James spluttered on his words as he started at his son in complete shock. “DI you just call me a Slytherin?” he asked softly, his eyes betraying nothing. “How degrading!” A few Slytherins that were walking past shot him glares that both Harry and Lily saw and then walked away. “You know I’m joking. I’m here to support you and you only, not your house.”

“Now you’re acting like a Hufflepuff,” sneered Harry, his eyes flashing with amusement. “You’re here a little early, don’t you think?”

“Not at all,” said Lily with a wide smile. “Well, maybe for the Quidditch game, but I want to talk to Flitwick about a Charm that I had an idea for. Meanwhile, your father will most likely go around and harass the poor new Gryffindors. You should join him, it’ll be good for you.”

“Salazar give me strength.”

“Hush,” said Lily, pushing her son along the corridor. “Oh – there’s Flitwick…”

“Where are we going?”

“To the Gryffindor common room, of course!” said James as he took the stairs two at a time, leaving Harry standing there gobsmacked. “Come on, don’t dawdle.”

Harry put one foot on the stair and moved, causing him to jolt on the spot and glare at the stairs

“Even the castle wants you to visit the Gryffindor common room.”

“Pretty sure she wanted to throw me off the stairs and plummet down and die,” muttered Harry, following his father up the staircase, which seemed to be in some sort of pranking mood. He hadn’t realized that his father had stopped on a landing and he walked straight into it.

“She?” whispered James. “What do you mean, she?”

“Hogwarts is female,” said Harry with a look that said it all. “It’s in _Hogwarts: A History_.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure people would have explained that if it was in there.”

Harry knew that his father would never read the book. Hardly anyone bothered to read the book equivalent of Professor Binns. _Hogwarts: A History_ was so dull to read that it would put an insomniac to sleep as if they were a baby. Most people would chapter skim and gain knowledge that way and even if his father did check the book, he would have to sift through more than three thousand pages of complete nonsense that may not even contain the correct information in the correct chapter. A perfect cover-up.

“It’s just a building,” said James as he resumed his walking.

“The castle is sentient, father. She adores the children that walk in her halls and she dislikes and will attempt to dispel anyone who tries to harm her children. Have you ever seen a building that has stairs that can vanish, move, twist or turn or change appearance at will? Of course not. It’s the castle that’s moving the stairs or anything in the castle, not magic.”

The soft discussion between father and son soon merged into a debate, one that had small jabs and petty insults tied into each word spoken. The whole situation was fragile and threatened to shatter at any given moment. The duo finally reached the top of the stairs and stopped directly in front of a portrait, who in Harry’s opinion was simply fat.

“Gryffindor… Lion… Scarlet… Dragon –”

“No password, no entry.”

James paced in front of the door. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…”

“Yes you do! I was Head Boy!”

“Look,” said Harry from behind his father, a sigh escaped his lips as he studied the portrait. “This man is my father and the Head Auror – tasked with defending the Boy Who Lived. He needs to enter to see Longbottom.”

“A Slytherin!” hissed the portrait. “How many of that is even true? Lying sort you lot –”

“According to the rules of Hogwarts, you have to open the door to the common room towards an Auror who must enter on business… with or without accomplices.”

“ _Accomplices_!” repeated the portrait.

“Perhaps not the best word for it… perhaps companions would work better. You wouldn’t split up father and son?”

It took ten more minutes of subtle manipulations and compliments for the portrait to swing open and allow them entry. She watched Harry like a lion stalking its prey, however.

Harry instantly regret fighting to get in here. “Oh this place is so bright,” he whined, looking around. “This room is so gaudy! How to people sit in here and actually read?”

James rolled his eyes and looked around the room fondly.

“Red and gold clash in every aspect! Salazar look at that sofa! How horrid.”

Perhaps it was the mention of ‘Salazar’ or the constant complaining, but something triggered and every Gryffindor in the turned and looked at the person whining about their common room. A lot of the students clad in Gryffindor colours and tensed, as if the Dark Lord himself was in their common room.

“Potter, what are you doing in here?” said Percy, stepping forwards with his Prefect badge shining in the light from the torches on the wall.

“Hm,” Harry turned and looked at the Gryffindor Prefect with a blank look. “Oh, hello, Weasley, I was simply walking around and decided to cast some dark magic on your portrait and see if should would allow me access. It worked, clearly.”

“Get lost, you slimy snake.”

“And that would be Ronald Weasley with his sorry of an excuse for an insult,” sneered Harry, flicking his gaze towards the youngest Weasley at the school. “So many of you Weasleys in one room – an infestation of Weasleys.”

Silence.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about the Sorting Hat and how it sorts people Gryffindor,” continued Harry. “It’s a house for those that the Sorting Hat feels sorry for – see, we have Longbottom, who has no parents. Then we’ve got the Weasley infestation, who have no money.”

Ron, who already had his wand held tightly in his hand, jumped up and knocked the chair backwards slightly. “Say that again, Potter!”

“Hit a nerve, did I, Weasley?”

Ron stood still, his face flushed bright red, almost as bright as his hair, his hands shaking as rage coursed through his body. “I dare you to say it again, Potter!”

Harry, who was inspecting his nails in a bored gesture glance dup and met Weasley’s eyes. “I apologize if I offended you, Weasley. I simply was just stating that I feel like people are placed in this house because the Sorting Hat feels sorry for them. Longbottom has no parents. The Weasley’s – that’s you – have no money because they have more children then sense and then there’s the rest of you, who I completely forgot you existed as you’re all so pathetic and lack any particular talents.”

“You’re a git, Potter.”

“Really, Longbottom should be glad that his parents died that night, at least they don’t have to physically see what a failure their only child has become,” said Harry with a smirk. He noted his father approaching and lowered his voice slightly. “He was so pathetic that the hat couldn’t even place him in Hufflepuff because at least they’re good at something.”

“It seems tense in here,” said James, holding a rather large book. “What’s happened?”

“Weasley was just about to show us all a spell that he had learned recently, if you can believe it,” said Harry, the lie easily slipping off his tongue and he stood with his arms folded. “That explains why he has his wand out. I’m sure you’ll like this one, father.”

“Oh!” said James, quickly sitting down on a vacant chair. “Go on then, Ron.”

Ron paled slightly but held out his wand and began to say something that seemed like a combination of different spells and nothing happened. He glanced down and met no one’s eyes, especially not Potter’s, who was probably still standing there with his arms folded and smirking. After a moment he lifted his head, gave a small shrug and pocketed his wand.

Harry waited for his father to leave once more before he said anything. “That was rather pathetic, Weasley, even for your standards. I’m amazed you were even invited here, you’re such a Squib. You know as much spells as you have money. Zero.”

The aura in the room grew tense once more, no one shifted besides Weasley, who flicked his wand into his grip and stood, glaring. “Potter! I challenge you to a Wizard’s duel!”

Harry scoffed.

“What’s a wizard’s duel?” asked a girl and then promptly covered her mouth with her hand.

Harry frowned at her. “Nothing, Weasley wouldn’t know the first thing about them.”

James walked over and looked between Harry and Ron with a confused expression. “Who’s talking about wizard’s duels?”

“No one!” answered Ron quickly, his wand already tucked away.

“Weasley challenged me to a wizard’s duel,” said Harry bluntly, his eyes focused on his father and he smiled. “Of course Weasley has about as much sense as he has money, so not very much.”

“Harry!” said James in horror, glancing at his son with a slightly disapproving look. “We raised you better than that! You know that you shouldn’t use your wealth as a weapon against others. You could have all the Galleons in Gringotts and you still couldn’t buy the love that the Weasley family have. I can assume that Lucius and Narcissa would agree to some extent with what you’re saying, but your mother and I certainly don’t.”

Harry pursed his lips, his eyes flashing with annoyance. He flicked an invisible spec of dirt off his should and stood still for a moment before looking directly at the youngest Weasley. “You’re going to face me regardless of what is said if you were serious about the duel, Weasley. You cannot proffer a challenge to a Wizard’s duel and then repudiate the offer.”

“Small words, Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes at his father. “You cannot put forth an offer to a Wizard’s duel and then pull back the claim.”

“What?” spluttered Ron, turning to his brothers, hoping for an answer that he could trust .When Percy sent him a glance that said he had no interest in explaining this common piece of knowledge, he turned to James Potter.

“Pure-blood tradition,” sighed James. “An ancient one at that.”

“You must be careful throwing out a Wizard’s duel, Weasley, it can start blood feuds – not that they’re not exactly common for your family. The Black, Malfoy, Lestrange and Rosier family have blood feuds active at the moment against the Weasley family – something about a deal gone wrong – gambling issues on the Weasley side.”

“Blood feuds are completely idiotic.”

“Oh, do explain your humble opinion, Granger.”

“They’re barbaric! The term that describes them is ancient and should be changed. Bloodshed will only lead to more bloodshed if it’s allowed to continue.”

“I’m not even going to waste my time answering that,” said Harry in a bored tone. “Blood feuds are commonplace to most pure-blood lines, however, Muggle royalty seem to follow the tradition closely and insulting or dishonouring a royal line is a decent reason for death for treason. The Weasleys are a pure-blooded family, even if they are seen as blood-traitors, they’re still pure-blood and a part of the elite, so to speak.”

“This discussion will only end in conflict,” said James from the side of the room, his hand on his temple. “Blood is irrelevant, you know that, Harry. You’re a half-blood, according to everyone else, and you’re far more talented with a wand than most pure-bloods. Having supposedly pure blood will not save you from a lethal curse because your blood is _pure_. The whole blood issue is what started the war.”

“Being proud of your lineage is something that everyone should be able to express, not just pure-bloods.”

“A Muggleborn has no lineage... in the Magical World.”

“Nice save,” said James in a defeated sounding tone. “Harry, please understand that blood and arguing about is pointless, because no matter what, it all flows the same.”

Harry flicked his wand at the wall, large green numbers appeared and he sighed. “Fine,” he said, watching as the numbers vanished from the air. “I must take my leave as this bright common room is giving me a headache and I must speak to Professor Snape for a moment.”

Father and son stared each other down until the latter slipped through the portrait hole and down the staircase towards the dungeons.

* * *

Eleven o’clock came around faster than Harry expected. He had changed into his Quidditch gear and smiled at the green on his uniform, which almost fit his eyes perfectly. The entire school seemed to be sitting in the stands scattered around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars to see the game better, despite the stands being rather high, the game was fast paced and was hard to keep up with.

Draco, Rosier and Theodore joined Sally-Anne, Pansy and Blaise in the top row. Crabbe and Goyle sat just below them in their typical bodyguard fashion. They crackled their knuckles every so often and glared at anyone who set an eye on Draco. Sally-Anne and Pansy only came for the team support, neither really cared for Quidditch, they just simply talked amongst themselves, causing Blaise to snap and demand a seat change so he wasn’t caught in the middle.

Meanwhile, in the changing rooms, Harry and the rest of the team were discussing strategy. Nothing new or exciting was really explained and everyone seemed to pick up on it quickly.

“No need for a stupid speech,” said Marcus as he picked up his broom. “We’re not Gryffindors who need a pep talk prior to a game. The only thing I want to say is the fact that this game is an almost guaranteed win.” He turned his gaze towards Harry and grinned. “Potter, I highly doubt you’ll have many issues, but try and avoid the twins, they will focus you.”

Harry wanted to tell him to shut up and that he was flying on a broom before he was even born, which he knew was false as the man was significantly older. “Right, it’ll be no trouble. We’ll win this match with ease.”

The Slytherin team walked in a slight formation, which wasn’t unusual as the House seemed to do that often. Marcus Flint walked at the front, leading the team with the two other Chasers, Terence Higgs and Adrian Pucey behind him. Then it was the two Beaters, Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole. Behind those two was the Keeper, Miles Bletchley and then the Seeker, who was Harry Potter. The team stood just off the field, but in view of the cheering Slytherin students. No one else cheered for the Slytherin team, besides Slytherin.

The Gryffindor team walked out a big clump, the crowd roared when they made their appearance. Harry didn’t recognize most of them. He noticed the twins sending mocking glances at the Slytherin team. In the center was Neville Longbottom, looking almost terrified, he was talking to the Gryffindor captain.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch, waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. “Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you!” She practically shouted, once they were all gathered around her.

Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint. He sneered at her then chuckled to himself, knowing damn well this match would be fun.

Madam Hooch stood over a closed case and looked at both the teams. “Mount your brooms, please.”

Harry elegantly mounted his Nimbus Two Thousand and looked at the Gryffindor team. He noticed that most of them where glaring at him, mainly the twins, which just so happened to be both Beaters. He heard a loud whistle and assumed that was to lift into the air, which he did effortlessly. Fifteen players rose up into the air. They formed a circle and glanced at each other, the two captains in the center, refusing to shake hands. The match started almost instantly after that, the Quaffle was thrown into the air, the Snitch was released and the Bludgers were allowed to cause havoc on the players.

The Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, which was closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

Lee Jordan instantly began to commentate on the match, wasting no effort in praising Gryffindor. “And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –”

“JORDAN!”

“I’m sorry, professor,” chuckled Lee Jordan in good will and kept commentating. “And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he’s going to score – no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle – that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by Slytherin – that’s Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she’s really flying – dodges a speeding Bludger – the goalposts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!”

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Harry ignored the shouts and focused on hunting for the Snitch, which was proving to be a deceitful little thing. He watched the Gryffindor Seeker constantly fly around, which is stupid as moving limits your vision.

 

“Slytherin is in possession!” shouted Lee Jordan, snapping the Gryffindor team from their minor celebrations. His tone was laced with an undercurrent of annoyance. “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?”

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey hurled the Quaffle towards one of the goals. He missed the glint of gold that was directly behind his head.

Harry already saw the Snitch and sped towards Adrian, he slightly stood on his broom and hopped over Adrian as his broom soared underneath him. He landed perfectly on his broom and leaned a hard left and dived down towards the Snitch.

“And that was typical Slytherin behaviour,” muttered Lee Jordan and before Professor McGonagall could say anything he corrected himself. “But I dare say it worked perfectly.”

Neville Longbottom had spotted Harry darting off after something and instantly tailed him. Harry was faster than Neville by a rather large amount, but he kept neck and neck with the Gryffindor Seeker. They both chased after the Snitch – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in mid-air to watch.

Harry was faster than Neville – he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead – he put on an extra burst of speed to close the distance when Fred or George Weasley appeared out of nowhere and blocked his path – he instantly veered from the collision and lost sight of the Snitch, he glared hatefully at the twin.

No one appeared to notice the obvious foul that had just occurred besides the Slytherins of course. Lee Jordan just commented on the beautiful play style that was happened, calling it a perfect and highly legal play.

Harry however, did not deem that a very legal play and blocking the Seeker should be punishable, although if they wanted to play like that, he would join in and make them taste some justice. He hovered near Lucian Bole, who was doing a perfectly fine job as he hit away multiple Bludgers in quick succession. “Bole, give me your damn bat!” He practically shouted and caught the bat that was tossed to him.

The Slytherin team gave Harry a curious glance as he took the bat and zoomed off, his eyes narrowed. Flint was sure he was going to throw the game that they were already struggling in, he was about to call a timeout when a Bludger homed on Potter, he waited and observed.

Harry was debating about taking out Neville, he was going to aim for him when a Bludger was sent at him, his eyes narrowed at it and a sneer formed on his face. He gripped the bat tight and swung it towards the incoming Bludger, the crack that echoed the field was rather loud and it drew attention. Of course, most people though that sound was bones breaking, the two were rather similar.

He carefully watched the Bludger that he hit towards the Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson, he expected it to hit her. He failed to cover the smirk that was on his face before it was noticed, but he shrugged it off and threw the bat back towards Lucian Bole, who caught it with a wide-eyed expression. He turned his head just in time to see the said girl plummet towards the ground and land harshly on the grass, her broom split in half and a piece in her hand, the other piece nowhere to be seen.

The entire Slytherin house cheered rather loudly for what appeared to be a very Slytherin and legal move, of course only four people in the crowd where actually shocked it happened.

Professor Snape, while not a huge fan of Quidditch, watched the match in silence, not that he would ever be seen enjoying something outside of potions. Although, it was hard to enjoy anything when you were sitting directly next to Quirrell. He knew that the two Weasley twins would focus Harry, even before the match started. He was glad to see that his Slytherin handled it perfectly.

James watched on with displeasure. He knew that the play that his son did was technically valid and that the Seeker can take the Beater’s bat, it wasn’t a very sportsmanlike move and would lose you the crowd rather than gain it. It was like the Muggle equivalent of a low blow.

Lily was upset that her son was nearly hit with a Bludger, not caring about what had happened with the match.

Lastly, Professor Quirrell, who had a smirk on his face.

“FOUL!” a Gryffindor screamed when the realization sunk in. “THAT WAS AN OBVIOUS FOUL!”

Madam Hooch landed near Harry and the two began to speak angrily to each other, once again causing people to stop and listen in to the argument, it wasn’t new knowledge that Harry disliked the professor, it seemed as the feeling was mutual. She relented the punishment when Harry began to recite the Quidditch rules, stating that it wasn’t a foul for the Seeker to take the Beaters bat and use it.

Lee Jordan found it particularly hard to not take Gryffindors side. “So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –”

“JORDAN!”

Lee Jordan sighed and gave her a slight smile before leaning back in to continue. “I mean, after that open and revolting foul –”

“Jordan, I’m warning you!”

Lee Jordan spared Professor McGonagall a quick glance before continuing. “I get it, all right, all right. So Potter nearly kills the Gryffindor Chaser, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure. Gryffindor is in possession.”

Harry was peering around the field for the Snitch, while keeping a close eye on the Weasley twins, he let his vision slip for a mere second and he lent back just as a Bludger flew mere inches from his face, he felt the material of the Bludger scrape his face. His eyes instantly darkened and he turned to face the twins with a dangerous glint in his eyes, a challenging smirk hit his face and he silently dared them to try it again. He hovered near the commentators box and observed Longbottom, he wasn’t do very much at all, just watching everyone else, getting pathetic enough to do a loop-the-loop when Gryffindor scored. He glared at Longbottom openly for about twenty second and then he saw it, he saw what he had hoped would happen to the idiot.

Longbottom’s broom gave a violent lurch and bucked him off, the boy flung off his broom he held on with one hand and he frowned, trying to regain his balance. The Gryffindor team began to circle him and attempted to help but it was pointless.

“I’m pretty sure it was Potter,” one of the twin’s muttered while the other nodded. “Did you see how his eyes darkened and then he turned to Neville and then his broom started doing this crazy thing? Dark magic.”

The match continued after Neville’s broom was steadied, something about a fire in the teachers’ stand and it allowed a distraction for everyone and he climbed back on his broom and resumed looking for the Snitch.

While the playing was back in action Lee began to commentate again. “Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – I’m only joking, professor – Slytherin score.”

The Slytherins were cheering, they knew Flint wouldn’t give up. He would wipe the blood from his broken nose and played on, not even bothering to call a time.

Harry spotted the glint of gold from the Snitch not too long afterwards. He sped towards it and with no shock Longbottom began to tail him. He really couldn’t be bothered with this anymore and just made an attempt to catch the Snitch. It lurched downwards and he followed it into a nosedive.

Harry and Longbottom both dived for it and sped towards the ground. Longbottom gave Harry a shocked look as they kept going downwards. Harry just gave him a challenging glance and snorted when Longbottom pulled out too early. Harry pulled from the ground by mere inches causing various gasps at the closeness of him plummeting into the ground. Harry reached out and clamped his fingers around the golden Snitch and grinned when he held it in his hand, he put it above his head and heard the Slytherins cheer loudly.

Lee Jordan wasn’t happy about the result of the match. He doubted that no Gryffindor was. “Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Harry Potter receives one hundred and fifty points for catching the Snitch.”

Madam Hooch flew around and blew her whistle. “Slytherin wins!”

Harry was pulled into a tight hug by the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, constantly being praised for his stunt taking out the Chaser and then catching the Snitch with that impressive dive. He caught Neville Longbottom speaking sadly to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger out of the corner of his eyes, the oaf lurked nearby and seemed to be throwing him curious glances. He saw the four of them leave and he wanted to follow. “We’ll celebrate later, yeah?” He muttered and the team agreed and began to thin. He moved towards Draco with a smile on his face.

“That was excellent flying, Harry!” praised Draco and wrapped his friend into a hug, ignoring everyone around them. “I knew you would catch the Snitch, it was an impressive dive!”

Harry snorted. “Of course I would catch it but we have better things to do right now. Oh, and don’t mention my parents, I know they’re here, in fact my father will be with the Gryffindors, stroking their wounded egos and mother will be hounding Professor Flitwick again.” He gestured towards the grounds. “The oaf is with the Golden Trio, I want to listen to what they say and the entire Gryffindor team looked at me oddly.”


	16. Eavesdropping On the Golden Trio

_Old Name_ : Quidditch

 _New Name_ : Eavesdropping On the Golden Trio

 _Rewritten_ : 17/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry and Draco slowly crept along the grass, following the tracks of the Golden Trio, straight towards Hagrid’s Hut. They shared a glance when they heard a very loud and laugh and quickly made towards the open window to listen into the conversation. They knelt just outside the window and listened in very carefully.

“It was Snape!” bellowed Ron, changing the subject from one of laughter into one of concern. “Me and Hermione saw him! He was staring at Neville’s broomstick and –”

“Hermione and I,” corrected Hermione, looking displeased with the boy’s grammar.

“– he was muttering under his breath, not taking his eyes off Neville.”

“Rubbish!” said Hagrid rather loudly, holding the teapot in his hands. “Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?”

Neville, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, wondering what to tell him. Neville decided on the truth. “I found out something about him. He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Hallowe’en. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding.”

Hagrid dropped the teapot. “How do you know about Fluffy?”

Hermione looked confused, but quickly masked it. “Fluffy?”

Hagrid glanced at the three Gryffindors and sighed loudly. “Yeah – he’s mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –”

“Yes?”

“Now, don’t ask me any more questions!” said Hagrid rather roughly, attempting to clean up the mess from the dropped teapot. “That’s top secret, that is.”

“But Snape’s trying to steal it!”

“Rubbish, Ron!” said Hagrid, standing up straight, his head almost colliding with the ceiling. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“So why did he just try and kill Neville?” cried Hermione, this afternoon’s events certainly seemed to change her mind about Professor Snape. “I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!”

“I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why Neville’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh – yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel –”

“Aha!” said Neville loudly, startling Hermione. “So there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?”

Harry gave Draco a knowing look and leant back, missing any future exchange between the Golden Trio and the oaf. Both of them nodded in unison and slinked away from the hut undetected. Any leads that they had on the third-floor corridor were now placed on some sort of temporary hold until some information on was found out about Nicolas Flamel. “We’ll have to wait a bit, that way they cannot tell that we eavesdropped on their conversation, before we hunt down any information regarding Nicolas Flamel.”

“It feels weird to say, Nicolas Flamel,” said Draco, repeating the man’s name a few more times.

“I have heard that name before, I know I have, I just cannot remember where and who it belongs to!”

“Relax, Harry.”

“It’s infuriating,” said harry in soft voice. “I cannot believe it!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t overthink it, Harry. I’m sure you’ll remember sometime soon, after all, you read so much I’m amazed you haven’t forgotten basic things like how to brush your hair – oh wait, you clearly have!” He burst out into laughter and clung to Harry for help in standing upright. “Come on, Harry, that was funny!”

Harry shook his head. “I guess you’re right, it was in fact, humorous, hilarious even, ludicrously witty, I found it rather entertaining.” He turned and looked at Draco who seemed to have paled a shade or two. “Oh calm down, I was kidding. Your joke was fine, it was slightly funny, but I expected it from the moment you lead into it.”

“What I said was funny, what you said wasn’t,” huffed Draco, resuming his walk. “I almost forgot. The stunt you pulled on the Gryffindor Chaser earned you a lot of favour among the Slytherins, just saying.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry in a whisper, weaving around a group of third-year Hufflepuffs.

Draco sighed and shook his head. “What you did pretty much screamed Slytherin,” at Harry’s confused look, he sighed and continued. “Look, you took out their Chaser without it being your job, you put her out for a little bit and it stopped them from scoring for the rest of the game. They only got three goals, thirty points! We ended with two hundred and ten.”

“Right, I understand now. But what does it mean, exactly?” asked Harry. “For me, I mean.”

“It means that a lot of Slytherins will all of a sudden _respect_ you, and be nice to you. I’m not sure if you know as you’re the first Potter to be in Slytherin, but this House is dealt with by a hierarchy chart. Name, money and of course fame are what drives the rankings. You have the money to be listed as a respectful and from I heard you’re pretty high on the chart. I’m currently in second place.”

“That’s intriguing,” said Harry as he rubbed the side of his face. “I’d love to know where exactly I am on the chart.”

Before Draco could say anything, James and Lily were standing in front of them, both smiling. “Hello, Harry!” said Lily loudly as she wrapped her son into a tight hug. “That was excellent flying, Harry. Congratulations on winning your first game of Quidditch.”

“Thank you, mother. It’s a shame that Neville almost got hurt,” said Harry with complete mock sadness about the event. “I wasn’t sure what to do when I saw his broom give a massive lurch and him getting thrown off, only just managing to hold on with one hand. I was pretty worried.”

James saw straight through the act, he did want to call his son out on it but decided for Lily’s sake that he wouldn’t. “He’ll be alright, Harry, no need to worry about him.” The _not like you do anyway_ remained unsaid, but lurked in the air like a heavy fog.

“I’m sure the Gryffindors will blame me for it anyway,” said Harry, shrugging. “I’m already used to it. Can you believe that some of the older students call first-year Slytherins Death Eaters? They don’t even let me near him as I may try and kill their precious saviour. Most watch their tongues as I am the son of the Head Auror, but most throw that in my face also.”

Lily’s smile instantly fell and her facial expression came that of worry, she instantly turned towards her son and sent him a look that one would send a newborn child who was scream its head off due to a lack of attention or just general distress. “I’m sure it’s just a passing thing, something that all Slytherin students have to endure due to recent events. Don’t let them get to you, Harry.”

Harry gave her a reassuring look.

“You too, Draco, don’t let them get under your skin and provoke a reaction. Gryffindors can be so tiring and boisterous at times.”

The conversation drifted from various topics, ranging from education to the latest gossip, which of course was said to be Quidditch, not that Harry or Draco knew as their latest gossip was Nicolas Flamel.

“Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?”

All eyes landed on Harry the instant he said the name. James’ eyes narrowed slightly, an Auror habit that most never shake off. Of course, he knew who the man was, as did Lily but most was just speculation. “Sorry, Harry, but neither of us do. You should check the library.”

Lily sent her husband a look and turned to her son. “We better get going. Be sure to write me, Harry, you’ve been quiet recently.” She quickly hit her son’s forehead with a kiss and ignored his complaints and smiled at Draco before turning and leaving.

“I never really noticed it before, but you seem to have a way of easily manipulating your mother,” said Draco with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Not that I blame you, as I do it with father. But, I cannot help and think on why you convinced her we were called Death Eaters or anything like that. I don’t think I have ever seen someone be called a Death Eater at all, or even heard the words in passing. At least not yet.”

“I know what you’re implying, Draco,” said harry with an uneasy glance. “I care for my mother, I would be lost without her.”

“Not your father?”

“Let’s just say that I feel like Lucius has been a better father over the years, it’s not even a close comparison. I swear that father treats Neville Longbottom like more of a son than I am. If it wasn’t for mother, I would have left years ago and went and lived with you.”

“Aiming to get disowned, Harry?” asked Draco politely. “As you know, your mother cannot do it unless the male heir passes on or the family is patriarchal, like the Greengrass family, and allows for that kind of thing.”

Harry couldn’t help but snort and shook his head, indicating that the topic was closed and that he wanted to say nothing else on it. He quickly and quietly said the password to the entrance of the Slytherin common room and slipped inside, his eyes taking everyone in. “Who do we ask to find out about the chart thing that you mentioned?”

“It’s sorted by surname, at least that’s what I’ve learned so far. Last year was ‘g’ so this year should be ‘h’, and the only pure-blood with the surname that starts with ‘h’ is Higgs.”

“They let a third-year manage this?”

“Tradition is better than whatever year you’re in, Harry.”

“Hmph.”

Draco snorted. “Higgs, Harry and I would like to take a quick look at you-know-what.”

Terence looked up and caught sight of Potter and Malfoy, his expression was slightly clouded. “Sure – err – come this way,” he stuttered out each word as he glanced beyond Potter. He led them both towards a large green tapestry off to the corner of the room and pushed on it slightly, opening it and revealing a corridor. “You can be such a halfwit at times, Malfoy! You shouldn’t talk about such things in the open, drop a letter or do it discreetly!”

“Sorry?”

“We just walked towards it and no one said anything, so I don’t see what the deal is,” said Harry as he studied the back of the tapestry, which held some sort of complex pattern and rune-like symbols.

“The tapestry and the area around it has a charm on it to stop people from noticing its existence, just like the charm on the wall at King’s Cross.”

“So we walked through a wall?”

Terence rubbed his head. “I’m not sure how you don’t know this, unless you knew of this list previously, which I assume you did, and the wall vanished, allowing you to freely pass. You’re just lucky that no one questioned why you wanted to speak to me.”

“Perhaps because we’re on the Quidditch team together and they assumed we were talking about that.”

“You’re still in second position, Malfoy,” said Terence, ignoring Harry. “As for you, Potter, you are –” he paused, scanning the list. “You are… currently in position four.”

“Well, look at that, Draco! You finally beat me in something.”

“Prat.”

“I never expected that,” said Harry, leaning in towards the list. “I thought I’d be nearly last, considering most of the Slytherins tend to treat me like I’m less than a house-elf and I’m a dirty discarded rag on the floor.”

“Well, you _are_ a half-blood,” said Terence and then shook his head. “You’d be eaten alive in Slytherin if it weren’t for your father or the fact that you’re pretty much a second child of the Malfoy family. Sure, you’ve earned a fair amount of points and proved you’re intelligent, but you’re not really anything special.”

Harry’s face remained as cold and emotionless as it was before Terence spoke, but his eyes swam with anger and another foreign emotion. It made sense, he could understand that, but it was far from the point. He didn’t want to be compared to his father or claimed that he got somewhere because of anything like that. He wanted to achieve what he did from his own talent and ability, that’s why he dived into studying like it was needed and not required. No one really understood why he chose to do what he did, why he asked for lessons in etiquette or some minor dance steps at such a young age where they wouldn’t be required, but it was knowledge and the more knowledge he had, the more powerful he was.

He wasn’t stupid and knew that Terence’s petty jealousy came from somewhere as the two were rather friendly not so long ago, in fact on the Quidditch field and the small time before it they chatted away happily without any tension at all. Yes, he noticed that Terence made a show of looking at the list as if he had no idea where everyone was, even more-so if he was the keeper of it. So, what was the trigger for the boy’s sudden change in attitude?

_Nothing special am I? A half-blood am I?_

The words repeated bitterly in his head as he stared into the soft brown eyes of Terence Higgs. It was an accident, at least he could explain that it was, but he dived into the boy’s head and began to see his most recent memory.

_“Nice underwear, Higgs,” tormented Adrian, levitating the piece of clothing with a quick Levitation Charm and waved it around in their dormitory. “Never known you to wear such fine pieces of clothing. This must have cost at least two Galleons.”_

_“Shut up, Adriana,” snapped Terence. “Go wash your curly, feminine hair, you git.”_

_“Ooh, Adriana, I like it, did Potter help you with insults?”_

_Terence rubbed his forehead and sighed as the room continued to hurl minor insults and petty jabs at him. “Are you lot done now?”_

_“No,” said Adrian as he changed the colour of the underwear to green. “Matches Potter’s eyes.”_

_“What are you even doing in here? Don’t you have your own dormitory to be in?”_

_“They’re not as fun to harass as you,” said Adrian, grinning. “None of them have a crush on Potter.”_

_“I don’t have a crush on Potter.”_

_“You stare at him whenever you see him, you get slightly nervous around him and you smile whenever he talks –”_

_“I do none of that!”_

_“– not to mention you insisted that you call each other by your given names. It’s cute really.”_

_“Get out!” snapped Terence, his eyes narrowed._

_“Now I know why it didn’t work out between you and Allison – she was pretty.”_

_“I’m amazed you don’t have any pictures of your future boyfriend in here – HEY!”_

_“Shut up and I won’t throw hexes at you.”_

_“Your hexes are weak. I heard Potter’s good with a wand,” said Adrian, winking. “Perhaps you should – ah – ask him.”_

Harry pulled from the memory straight after Terence blushed at the last comment said and stared at the boy with a confused expression.

“Y-you’re a Legilimens?” said Terence, blinking in shock.

“Not bad for a half-blood, hey,” said Harry with a mocking expression, filing the information away for a later date, perfect if he ever needs a favour done. “I’ll keep quiet and act as if I never saw what was on your mind. I don’t mind, but just remember that my silence isn’t cheap, Terence.”

Draco frowned and gave Terence a curious look before stalking out of the room and chasing down his irritable friend, deep down he knew something was wrong, but why would he chase after something that he had no idea about. “Harry!” he called out, following the black-haired boy. “Harry stop!” He huffed and began to jog towards his friend. “Please, Harry.”

Harry stopped and turn to face his friend. “What do you need, Draco?” he asked with a calm façade. “I didn’t hear you calling out.”

“Where are you going?” asked Draco, concern lacing his features. “Want me to come?”

“I’m going to the library to see if I can find anything on Nicolas Flamel, I can assure you he has a few books on him, I just cannot remember why he’s even known,” said Harry with a lazy flick of his wrist. “I need to clear my head regardless, I’ll be back before curfew.”

“Are you sure? Two sets of eyes are always better than one.”

“I’ll be fine, Draco.”

Draco frowned and watched his friend walk away towards the staircases that would take him to the library. He walked back into the common room and found Higgs muttering to himself in a corner, looking rather frightened. For a brief moment, he wondered what Harry had seen in the boy’s head for it to have such an outrageous effect on the two.

* * *

Harry gently opened the library door, wary not to shove it open and have Madam Pince staring at him with her eyes that demanded he respect her books. He instantly made his way towards the section with the books on history and began scanning them for any mention of Nicolas Flamel in the titles of the books. He didn’t get far when he spotted familiar looking bushy hair. “Granger, what brings you to these parts at such a time?”

“It’s a library,” said Hermione, as if stating the obvious. “I’m clearly here to study for lessons.”

Harry sneered and then blinked, wiping the expression off his face and replacing it with a polite yet charming smile. “That does make a certain degree of sense. Here,” he peered downwards and got a look at the books she was carrying, the smile morphed into a slight smirk, “allow me to help you with your search.”

“No thanks, just looking for one more book –”

“Oh forgive me, but I don’t remember Professor Binns assigning us those books, they’re pretty advanced and some not even on subjects that we cover until at least our third year.”

“These,” said Hermione as she gestured at the books, “are just a bit of light reading, something to help pass the time. As you’re most likely aware, Professor Binns hasn’t assigned us anything else for over two weeks, since the last piece of homework we handed in, which you completed in class and he just stared at you blankly before calling you Harper Porter.”

Harry sneered at the bushy-haired girl. “Well, I guess that’s correct. Perhaps I could assist you with your search, I’ve spent a little while in this library and my mother told me where all the good books are.”

“No thank you,” said Hermione politely before her eyes flashed slightly. She wiped her bushy hair from her face. “I don’t want to mingle with your _lot_!”

“My lot?” said Harry, taking a very small step forwards. “Please explain what you mean Granger, you don’t want to have a tense air around a decent conversation.”

“After what you did to the Gryffindor Chaser –”

“A valid and legal play isn’t against the rules, Granger.”

“Don’t interrupt!” snapped Hermione, her eyes flaring. “You could have hurt her!”

“It’s a part of the game, if you had any brain you would realize that!”

“Who cares? You could have hurt her badly!”

“Clearly, you’re the only person that actually cares about her! Everyone else has a brain and instantly knew what I did was a valid play and will most likely be done again in the future as I am a decent –”

Hermione snorted. “No one will do what you do! Get it through your head.”

“You say that now, Granger, but you’re just as ignorant as any other Gryffindor that I have spoken to.”

“And your point is?”

“You’ll always remain ignorant and irrelevant. When I saw you on the train I assumed you would be intelligent enough to gather the facts and apply it to situations, but a month with the pathetic Weasley and the failure of a wizard known as Longbottom has reduced your intelligence by half.”

“How can you be so rude to them? What have they ever done to you?”

“Longbottom wasn’t killed by Voldemort! That’s what makes me hate him! Voldemort should have killed the pathetic excuse for a wizard the night his parents were killed by the man!”

Hermione gasped and took a step back. “You’re a monster! You know nothing about Neville – or any of us!”

Harry let out a cold laugh, smirking. “I _know_ everything about you Granger. Your first word was dad. Your parents are dentists and gave you books for your birthdays as they spent more money on their profession than you and books were cheap –”

“Two things,” said Hermione. “Both rather common as I have said them before.

“You were always top of the class and despised for it during school previous to Hogwarts and you knew everything that was covered in that year. Your lowest ever grade was a ‘B’ and you cried for it to be lifted to an ‘A’.”

“How?”

“Because I am smart, Granger, you would learn that you should listen to me and not be foolish to try and go against me,” said Harry, his tone slightly higher than usual. “I also know that you’re looking for a book on Nicolas Flamel and that you chased after the foolish idea because Longbottom said so and you idolize him as a genius that defeated a Dark Lord. If that Dark Lord won, you wouldn’t be here and that’s why you kiss Longbottom’s feet, because you’re pathetic.”

“I thought you were nice,” said Hermione, wiping at tears that formed in her eyes. “How can you be so mean?”

“I’m not mean,” said Harry calmly. “It’s your fault, not mine.”

“How is it my fault?”

“Everything is your fault, Granger. The fact your parents fought as often as they did. The fact that you attached yourself to Weasley and Longbottom because they were the only people to put up with the fact you’re an insufferable know-it-all and the fact that I had to be truthful to you.”

“No –”

“You see, Granger, you’re below me, in every aspect. In every class, in social status, and even in blood. You’ll never be as good as me, or as prominent, or even as decent at magic as me, because it quite simply isn’t in your blood.”

“No, I’m – I’m –”

“You cannot even talk properly as all you’re good for is grovelling and even at this very moment you’re struggling to do just that. I’m not sure how to try and cheer you up when you’re just trying your hardest to make me despise you.”

“You were nice, to me and Terry!”

“On the train? Yes,” said Harry. “That was before you decided to tag along with Longbottom and his failure party. Why subject yourself to be a failure when you could follow me and be great?”

“You think you’re so much better than Longbottom, you’ve achieved nothing!”

“I have talent. What does Longbottom have? An over exaggerated story about how he defeated a Dark Lord. Anyone who believes it is idiotic and a follower, not a leader.”

“At least he does something and doesn’t live in the shadow of his father!”

“Because his father is dead!” snapped Harry, the comparison agitating him. “I mean it, Granger, Longbottom will end up just like his parents. Voldemort had thousands and thousands of followers. Longbottom will perish soon enough.”

“You seem so certain, yet you’re wrong.”

“I’m never wrong,” said Harry, holding out his hand. “Trust me Granger. You don’t want to follow the wrong sort of people. Follow me, I can help you rise up in society.”

Hermione snapped her hand directly to her side. “You’re an overambitious lout, Potter, I’ll never follow or listen to what you say. Get over yourself!”


	17. The Worst Christmas

_Old Name_ : Mirror of Erised

 _New Name_ : The Worst Christmas

 _Rewritten_ : 20/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

“What’d you say to Hermione, Potter?” said Ron, stopping in front of Harry.

“I have no idea what you’re even talking about, Weasley,” said Harry as he scanned the Gryffindors in front of him. “Now, if you would kindly get out of my way, I have things to do.”

“Things to do?” said Neville, glancing around the library, which was pretty much empty. “For the past three days you’ve done nothing but sulk around in the library.”

While it was true, Harry had spent the previous three days in the library, hoping that he would be able to avoid everyone and just not deal with it. He avoided conversations and easily brushed them off with rehearsed conversations that he had played in his head for each scenario. He only spoke to Draco and made sure that no one else even spoke a word to him without sending them a dark look and making them stutter and quickly flee. The seclusion was great as it stopped him being lost in trivial things and allowed him complete focus on his studying.

“I’m not sulking around the library,” he said, tucking a copy of _Intermediate Transfiguration_ under his arm and stood ramrod straight, looking straight at Longbottom.

“What’d you say to Hermione?” repeated Ron, his fists clenched to his side.

“I said nothing to Granger,” said Harry calmly. “According to Longbottom, I’ve done nothing but sulk around in the library for three days doing nothing.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I clearly don’t,” replied Harry, glancing between Weasley and Longbottom.

Ron made a sound that sounded like a distressed animal. “She came back to the Gryffindor common room crying! She refused to tell us what happened and she was last at the library!”

“And?”

“ _And_?” repeated Ron, sounding just as distressed as before. “According to some people, you were at the library at the same time as her and therefore it was you that made her cry and we’re trying to figure out what you said.”

Harry laughed for a little bit, the sound echoed off the walls. “Are you serious?” he paused and then shook his head. “Oh, Salazar, you are serious! You actually think I made Granger cry.”

“Don’t laugh!”

“C’mon, Harry, we know that you said _something_ to her, but she won’t tell us what you said.”

“I said nothing,” replied Harry, his eyes narrowing. “This detective work that you’re trying to accomplish, I’m sure that Weasley would thank you for the extra effort you’re putting into trying to get him some money, but I did nothing to Granger.”

“We’re looking out for a friend, Potter.”

“No one is speaking to you, Weasley, go lurk in the corner and hunt for some Knuts.”

“Do you have to be so rude, Harry?” said Neville. “We tried to be as nice as possible to you –”

“Accusing me of making your friend cry isn’t being nice,” said Harry with a sneer. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Moving out of my way as this conversation is clearly over.”

Neville sighed and let Harry go, he shook his head at Ron and quickly left the library with is friend close behind. “I have no idea why Harry would say anything to Hermione, they’ve never really been at ends.”

“It’s Potter, mate, he’s a Slytherin –”

“Getting sorted into a house doesn’t change you that much,” said Neville quiet a sigh. “Come on, we need to find Hermione and see if she’s alright.”

Harry sat down in his usual spot, which had been dubbed just that and now one would dare come and sit here with him as it was his. He held the Transfiguration book open and scanned it at his usual reading pace, knowing that if he pushed himself he could be above Draco and Granger in Transfiguration scores, but deep down he knew that no one could master every subject in their first-year, even Granger and Draco stumbled at a few subjects. But for him, it wasn’t enough. He needed to be the best, to prove that he was more than just a half-blood living in the shadow of his father.

‘ _Drowning yourself in texts is no way to live_ ,’ muttered Tom in Harry’s ear. ‘ _I have been silent up until now, but stop being foolish_.’

Harry said nothing, he ignored Tom. Why would he listen to a figment of his imagination? He let his mind drift towards Lucius and the Malfoy Manor. He had been trying to push for a look into Lucius’ library at the Malfoy Manor, there’s a lot of valuable and highly rare books just sitting there, knowledge that must be learned.

A shadow caught Harry’s attention off to the side, he peered over his book and waited for the person to make themselves known. When nothing happened he sighed and filtered them out, of course other people would be around and sometimes he and the others crossed paths, it was a library, it couldn’t be helped.

“Potter, I’m sorry to bother you and such but the library closes in fifteen minutes and Madam Pince sent me to inform you that she would like everyone out of the library.”

Harry lifted his gaze and met the boy’s gaze, a third-year Hufflepuff, judging by the height and the familiarity of the voice. He noticed the fear and hesitation in the boy’s voice and debated that silently.

“I really am sorry.”

Harry didn’t move, instead he watched the boy took three steps backwards and retreated, leaving hi Malone once more. Why was a third-year Hufflepuff afraid of him? What had been spread around the school during his intense studying sessions? He had learned over the previous few days, from various books, that Hufflepuff wasn’t the house for rejects, no, that honour was for Gryffindors. Hufflepuffs tended to be extremely loyal, to an almost wince worthy level of it.

“Hey,” he said to the third-year Hufflepuff, who paused. “I’m sorry, but you know my name and I don’t know yours.”

The third-year Hufflepuff allowed the shock to show on his face, he glanced at the Slytherin boy with slightly curious eyes but let his natural friendliness take over. “I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory.”

“My father knows your father.”

“Yes, from the Ministry,” said Cedric. “Dad helped your dad with a few cases back in their early days.”

“Thank you for letting me know that I was required to leave, wouldn’t wand Madam Pince coming after me.”

“No problem, but I must be going, I have homework to do.”

Harry nodded and watched the third-year flee, as if his life depended on not being there, in a sprint towards the exit of the library. He did debate if it was worth trying to even become friends with the Hufflepuff house as the entire Slytherin house would chastise the Hufflepuffs as failures of the school, despite the fact that the house had better grades and points overall, at least according to Gryffindor, who were currently last. The only issue that he could think up was the fact that the friendship would have to remain as discreet as possible a she didn’t have the natural standing in the Slytherin house to take a hit like this.

Even worse if someone had been spreading rumours about him while he hadn’t been able to defend himself.

“Can I take this book out, Madam Pince?” said Harry in a soft yet charming tone. “It’s so interesting.”

Madam Pince stared at the boy for a while, her feather duster held limply in her hand as she studied the boy’s face for any kind of deceit. “No, you have far too many out already.”

Harry frowned at her. He liked madam Pince, especially since she would narrow her eyes and demand that Weasley and the rowdy lot known as Gryffindors leave her library often. He was about to debate the fact that he needed this book for future potion lessons and reading it now would prove useful when he heard the woman sigh and sign a note.

“Bring it back by Monday.”

“Thank you, Madam Pince!’ said Harry eagerly. “You’re the best!”

Madam Pince shooed the boy from her library.

Harry fled the library quickly, happy with his achievement at getting an extra book out of the stern library manager known as Madam Pince. He walked towards the dungeons with a slow pace, knowing that he had a while before curfew would start and the Prefects would start actively hunting students out beyond that time. Before he even stepped a foot near the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Draco was standing directly in front of him, seemingly appearing out of thin air.

“I was at the library today,” said Draco, his voice betraying none of the emotion that flicked briefly through his eyes. “And you weren’t there.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice the flicker of betrayal through his friend’s eyes and even on his facial expression. “I was in my regular spot – the one that is secluded.”

“I checked there, twice.”

“Maybe you looked when I was getting another book or talking to Madam Pince,” said Harry. “But I can assure you, Draco, I have nothing to hide from you and if I did I’d tell you. I tell you everything.”

“Well, alright,” said Draco, relaxing his posture. “Where have you been these past few days? No one has seen you for more than a few seconds at a time.”

“In the library, been studying a lot of Transfiguration, trying to get better so I can beat Granger.”

“And have you been eating?”

“In the kitchens,” said Harry, holding the laugh. “Which if it wasn’t for Narcissa letting us know about that, I would have most likely starved to death.”

“Are you coming to the manor over the Christmas holidays?”

“I was hoping that I would, that way I can scour your library and try and get into your father’s study so I can take a peek at his rare tomes. But, I have a feeling that I won’t be able to.”

“Father may let you look at them now that you’re a bit older –”

“Not about that, I have a rather strong feeling that the headmaster has contacted my parents about my recent attitude and such. Weasley and Longbottom cornered me in the library earlier and accused me of making Granger cry.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Make Granger cry.”

“No,” said Harry. “No I didn’t.”

“Alright,” said Draco. “Granger has been as avoiding of people as much as you recently. I have also noticed that she jumps at the sheer mention of your name, like she’s debating something and was pulled from her thoughts.”

“She’s mental.”

“Don’t doubt it,” said Draco, his expression morphed into one of thought. “Back to the previous topic. “Your recent attitude, as you put it, is you being an antisocial git. The only house you aren’t fooling is the Slytherins, they are vaguely aware that you’re ignoring everyone to study. I have heard your catchphrase before, and I’m not sure where you heard it or why you blindly follow it, but knowledge isn’t power, it’s how you use the knowledge.”

“Knowledge is power,” said Harry. “Wealth is security and heritage is everything.”

Draco sighed and prepared himself for the onslaught of quotes that his friend would use. Oddly enough, they never came.

“I never really – I have one of those things, and that’s the knowledge part of it. I lack two of these things, I must strengthen the one that I currently have so that I stand out and will have a chance. I didn’t come to this school to be ordinary, Draco, I came here to be extraordinary, and I want people to look at me for what I am and not something else, like Longbottom.”

“But isn’t that the point? Everyone starts out on the same level at school, and then it depends on how you learn from there.”

“My family isn’t Weasley poor, but we’re not rich either, we have very little power in the Ministry, even with my father as the Head Auror.”

“You’re eleven,” said Draco with a raised eyebrow. “Whatever is causing you to act like this, then I don’t exactly like it. Since when have you cared about anything that you’ve said recently? We used to learn so that we could be just as smart as each other.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“At first you were rather timid and shy of the Slytherins, but you at least attempted to speak to them,” said Draco, his face set in an almost stone-like look. “Now you avoid them, not just them, but everyone, and scowl at anyone who even dares to try and start a conversation with you. When was the last time that you helped Rosier or Theo with their homework? You know how clueless at some subjects they are.”

“I cannot always be there to help them…”

“Because you’re ignoring them! Did you forget your own words?” said Draco. “You learn more when correcting someone else’s work, as you learn from their mistakes.”

“I don’t sound like _that_!”

“I thought it was accurate,” said Draco. “Just know this, Harry, you can read every book, study every subject and still be just as dumb as the average wizard. You’re smart, Harry, figure it out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Go read a book, maybe you’ll learn it from that!”

Harry watched as Draco turned on the spot, his facial expression set into one of betrayal and walked away. “Draco!” he called, hoping his friend would stop and turn around with a laugh and act as if he was just joking. But he didn’t. He watched as Draco vanished around a corner and didn’t come back. He and Draco had plenty of different fights over the years, their very first was when they were younger and threatened with not being each other’s friends anymore, as normal children and then it changed as they got older, but the prospect that the friendship would end on an argument always left an uneasy feeling in his stomach, because if he lost Draco, he lost Narcissa and Lucius as well.

He let out a long breath and began walking inside the Slytherin common room, twisting instantly towards the first-year boys’ dormitory. His footsteps were surprisingly soft against the cobblestone flooring of the dungeons. He had noticed the looks, whether they were concerned or just general looks was lost on him.

Was it concern? Perhaps it was fear or betrayal.

“Long day, Harry?” said Theodore, watching the boy in question slump onto the sofa. “Now that you’re here and I hate to ask you a favour on such a tiring day for you, but could help me with my Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment?”

Harry lifted his head and looked at the boy, preparing to speak.

“I’ll owe you one,” said Theodore, noting the hesitation on the other boy’s face. “I’ll help you with whatever.”

“Sure,” said Harry in a slow tone of voice. “But before we start, can I ask you a question?”

“Alright.”

Harry paused for a moment. “You’re not very well liked, from what I have gathered and I don’t understand it. Could you explain?”

“Well,” began Theo, not sure on how to explain it. “The Nott family was once prestigious. The Nott family almost dates back to the age of the founders, I think we came just after Hogwarts started, but the exact date cannot be retrieved as it cannot be traced. The Nott family is one of three families to live in a castle instead of a luxurious manor, however ours has seen better days.”

“Who lives in a castle?”

“The Prince line lived in one, but the location is lost, supposedly under a Fidelius Charm and only those of Prince blood can find it.”

“Fascinating,” said Harry and made a gesture for Theodore to continue.

“My father was a suspected Death Eater and when the Dark Lord fell, the Ministry came and attempted to take everything we own, but by law the Ministry would have to declare war on us and siege the castle, which would be near impossible as they haven’t got the tools to do it. However, they sought to discredit the Nott name and my father allowed it, remaining hidden in the castle.”

“Your mother?”

“Died when I was a child, I remember seeing her die, but not how she died.”

“Oh, sorry,” said Harry.

“No problem,” said Theodore with a slight smile. “I’m sure that you know this, as I have personally seen you reading the book a few times that I’m related to Cantankerus Nott, the author of the Pure-Blood Directory, better known as the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“Wait, wasn’t that penned by an anonymous author? Just speculation that Cantankerus Nott wrote it?”

“No, it’s true, Cantankerus Nott wrote it and compiled it early on in his life. He produced an heir soon after as he felt that releasing it could threaten his life as a few knew that he wrote it. My father didn’t follow tradition and had me when he was older. When Cantankerus Nott passed away, everyone turned to us to update the book and continue the work of Cantankerus Nott, but my father didn’t want that kind of stigma on our family.” Theodore paused for the right words. “His beliefs were always pushed down onto our family, while we do agree with blood-purity, none of us have the energy to update the book and this offends a lot of people as the Weasleys should be removed as should the Ollivanders.”

“I hate to say this, but the Weasleys are as pure as any of the people on in the book,” said Harry, kicking the side of the desk. “They claim to have Muggle ancestors, but it’s all pure-blooded.”

“Correct, but they’re blood-traitors and that’s why they should be removed,” said Theodore with a smirk. “They deplore their status on it, always have. They have mingled with Muggles, but never bred with them. A lot of families are missing from it, an example would be the Potters and the Princes. Well, the Potters aren’t pure anymore, due to your mother.”

“That makes sense, I guess. Do you know anything about the Potter family tree?”

“As much as I would love to say that I have knowledge on it, I don’t, no one does. Rumour has it that the family tree was hidden in the Potter Estate somewhere and never searched for. Cantankerus Nott stated in the book that it was to cover up the fact that they married and bred with Muggles, but the Potters married into the Blacks, and you know how they are, can sniff out a traitor with ease.”

The two lapsed into an easy silence as they went over the assignment. The pace of the discussion was slowly and steady and no hint of anger or annoyance was present, even as Harry corrected certain things to help the boy that told him about his family.

“Do you still believe in blood purity?”

Theodore lifted his head and stared at Harry. The question came after a moment of silence and it startled him slightly. “No,” he said softly, “and not many still do, depending on who asks and for what purpose. The first lesson pure-bloods learn is about blood, which leads into family and history about the family. Among pure-blood lines, family is important, that’s about all that’s taught these days.”

* * *

Christmas was fast approaching, the suddenness of the snow took most students by surprise, by the time that mid-December had crawled around the Black Lake was practically frozen solid and the grounds were coated in a thick layer of snow that punished anyone who dared venture out without adequate clothing and a thick layer of Warming Charms. The corridors were rather draughty and ice tended to linger in the air as the coldness pounded on the glass windows, causing them to rattle slightly under the sheer force of the icy wind.

Harry bottled his potion, silently laughing at the pathetic Gryffindors who seemed to think that blowing out airs of breath and watching their breath instead of focusing on the potion was a good way to pass the time, which meant he was far from surprised when most melted cauldrons and got demolished by Professor Snape as he verbally reduced them to nothing. When he left the dungeons at the end of Potions, he found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that the resident oaf was behind it. He stood back with Draco and watched as Ronald Weasley decided that he would offer some help.

“Hello, Hagrid, want any help?” asked Ron, poking his head through the branches on the fir tree.

“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.”

Harry watched as the small discussion began to turn into a full discussion, he was about to remark about it but Draco seemed to have beaten him to the point.

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” said Draco in a cold drawl, causing both Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom to jump slightly. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”

Harry snorted and observed Weasley, it was painfully obvious that Draco had struck a soft spot, as always, offending the Weasleys wealth had an instant effect, their faces would go as red as their hair and they would display that famous ‘Weasley temper’ with was a pathetic running joke. He was partially aware that Weasley would do something stupid, like dive at Draco and begin to manhandle him.

“Weasley!” sneered Professor Snape, his glare was directly on the red-headed boy. He watched as the boy released Draco Malfoy’s robes.

“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the large tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”

“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Professor Snape in a drawl, similar to the one he used when speaking to dunderheaded students. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”

Harry and Draco smirked and pushed roughly past the fir tree, scattering needles everywhere while idly mocking Gryffindor as they walked towards the library.

* * *

“I’ll get him,” threatened Ron, gritting his teeth at the back of the blond-haired boy. “One of these days, I’ll make him sorry.”

“I hate them both,” said Neville in a soft, defeated sounding voice. He lifted his head in regret. “Well, not Harry, I mean he can be a prat at times, but Malfoy is worse – not that Harry is much better.”

“Potter gets away with a lot, don’t you think?” said Ron as he watched Hagrid shifted around the fir tree, muttering about all the nettles on the floor. “If I acted even half as bad as Potter does, mum would make sure that I couldn’t sit down for no less than two weeks and if I complained she’d make it three!”

“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid cheerfully, unaware that he interrupted the discussion. “Tell yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”

Neville, Ron and Hermione, who had just joined them after hunting down Professor Snape and asking him something about potions, followed Hagrid through the corridors and towards Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

Professor Flitwick caught sight of the large man with the tree and squeaked in delight. “Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put it in the far corner, would you?”

The Great Hall looked rather spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls and no fewer than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” asked Hagrid rather suddenly, snapping the three children from admiring the Great Hall.

“Just one,” sniffed Hermione, as if the flowers in the room were effecting her nose. “That does remind me though – Neville, Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch. We should be in the library.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree. He looked at Neville who had seemed to do the same exact thing.

“The library?” questioned Hagrid, following them out of the Hall. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?”

“Oh, we’re not working,” said Neville brightly, staring directly at Hagrid with a warming smile. “Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel, we’ve been trying to find out who he is.”

“You what?” boomed Hagrid, failing to cover the shock that was plastered onto his large hairy face. “Listen here – I’ve told yeh – drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.”

“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” said Hermione, looking very unaffected by the outburst from Hagrid.

“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” said Ron hopefully. He turned and looked at Hermione, who had a thoughtful expression on her face, hoping that she would save them.

“We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I’ve read his name somewhere.”

“I’m sayin’ nothin’,” said Hagrid rather flatly, who eyed the three children with a slight suspicion.

“Just have to find out for ourselves, then.”

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel’s name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn’t in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ , or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was missing, too, from Important _Modern Magical Discoveries_ , and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry._ And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Neville wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn’t somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books and he knew he’d never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts and only read by older students studying advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“And what are you looking for, Longbottom?” asked Harry, a curious expression on his face a she lent slightly on the wooden chair. “Not thinking about sneaking into the Restriction Section are you?”

“What?” Neville half jumped from his slight thoughts as he looked at Harry, who was sitting with books plastered around him. “And none of your business.”

“Look at that,” said Harry, a pause between each word. “The famous Boy Who Lived is trying, and failing, to sneak into the Restricted Section undetected. Where is your honour? Resorting to such petty attempts – why, I should sell this piece of information to the Daily Prophet.”

Neville sighed. “I don’t want stories on me in the prophet!”

“You do realize that I could help you, right? I spend a lot of time in here, I see you and your two ‘friends’ searching for something,” continued Harry, air quoting as he said the word friends. “You cannot get into the Restricted Section without a signed note, don’t waste your time.”

“I know that!”

“Do you?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Harry continued to rock on his chair. “Because I want in on whatever you and your lot are scheming.”

“No, not until you admit that you upset Hermione and made her cry.”

“Salazar aid me, are you _still_ going on about that?”

“Yes,” replied Neville with an air of confidence. “I know it was you.”

“I said nothing to Granger, go ask her who made her cry.”

“She won’t say.”

“Because she made it up, looking for sympathy,” said Harry with a soft laugh. He gestured towards the gate to the Restricted Section. “I can get you in, you know. Professor Quirrell gave me a signed note to access the Restricted Section weeks ago.”

Neville looked like he was going to reply when Ron came around the corner and spotted him. “Ah, Neville, there you are – what are you doing speaking to Potter?”

“Mind your business, Weasley,” snapped Harry as he turned back to look at Longbottom. “I’m not sitting here all day waiting for an answer, give me one now.”

Neville debated it, he did think that Harry could help, as Harry was smart and knew a lot of things that they didn’t and he even had a pass into the restricted section that he and Ron could use. But that caused him to remember how awful Harry was to Ron and Hermione. “Sorry, no.”

Harry scoffed and then looked away. “Your loss,” he stood and pushed the signed note against the gate leading into the Restriction Section, aware of the stares that he was receiving from both Longbottom and Weasley. He turned and gave them a smirk before turning around a corner.

“How did the slimy Slytherin get in there?” asked Ron, confused. “There could be all matter of information on Flamel in there!”

“He has a pass –”

Madam Pince spotted the two boys and instantly walked up to them. “What are you looking for, boys?” she asked and studied them both carefully.

Neville turned to Ron, who appeared to be going slightly white. “Nothing,” he quickly replied and then regret his words. Why couldn’t he be like Harry and a quick thinker?

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him. “You’d better get out, then. Go on – out!”

Wishing he’d been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Neville left the library with Ron in tow. He, Ron and Hermione had already agreed they’d better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she’d be able to tell them, but they couldn’t risk Snape hearing what they were up to. He and Ron waited outside in the corridor to see if Hermione had found anything, but he wasn’t very hopeful. They had been looking for a fortnight, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn’t surprising they’d found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks. Five minutes later, Hermione joined him and Ron, shaking her head. They went off to lunch.

“You will keep looking while I’m away, won’t you?” asked Hermione with a huff. “And send me an owl if you find anything.”

“And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron. “It’d be safe to ask them.”

“Very safe, as they’re both dentists,” said Hermione and focused on her food, leaving both Neville and Ron to speak quietly to each other, she glanced around and caught Harry Potter smirking at her. The chat they had in the library fresh in her mind, she shuddered slightly and turned back and looked at the table.

* * *

Harry picked up the letter from his mother with slight annoyance, he knew before he even opened it that it was from his mother, as it was her neat writing that was on the front of the letter. ‘In her writing, but your father’s words,’ he thought bitterly and twisted it around, looking at the back of the envelope, confirming his thought a she noticed the Potter crest sitting just above the flap on the back. He slowly broke the wax seal, which also contained the Potter crest and flicked open the letter.

_Harry,_

_I know you were looking forward to coming home this Christmas, and I’m sorry that I was the one to say that you cannot but your father and I are working on something and it would just be easier if others weren’t underfoot. I heard that Draco is going to France these holidays and I hope that you understand that Christmas is a time for family, so I asked Narcissa to not invite you along, even though you have always wanted to go._

_I heard that Neville was also invited to stay with the Weasleys but chose to stay at school with you and Ronald Weasley, who decided to stay at school with Neville. It’s complicated but I do trust that you will at least be friendly to them. You know I love you Harry, but Neville is like a second son and I’m not sure why you dislike him as much as you do, he has lost so much in such a short time. We were lucky that You-Know-Who left us alone, else it could be you in that position._

_Neville writes to us almost every three days and he has expressed some major concern…_

Harry threw down the letter, not even bothering to finish it, every letter was about Neville! Neville this, Neville that. There was only a certain amount of talk about Neville that he could take without going insane, it was bad enough that the boy was forced onto him growing up that now that they’re in Hogwarts, it has just intensified.

“Are you alright, Harry?” said Rosier from the side, glancing down at the letter. “You seem… annoyed.”

“Just issues with the parents and of course Longbottom,” said Harry, gesturing towards the letter. “Every letter is always the same, and the worst thing is that it’s written by my father, but penned by my mother, if that makes sense.”

“It does, but it doesn’t.”

“He knows that I’ll listen to mother,” said Harry warily. “I just want one letter without his name being mentioned in it, just one.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” said Rosier, reading the letter. “You can use this time to make some connections with the other Slytherins, even if you’re not a people person. Quite a few are remaining at Hogwarts this year, at least according to some upper years. There are some helpful people in Slytherin, after all.”

“Do you have any idea on who’s staying?” asked Harry, ignoring the comment about him not being a people person. “I know Draco got lucky and is going to France, but I have no idea about anyone else.”

“I only know about us first-year boys. Draco’s going to France, as you know. Crabbe and Goyle aren’t staying, neither is Zabini and Nott is going home to spend it with his father.”

“Rookwood?”

“Leaving as well, he was only staying for the year.”

“I thought you meant the school year,” said Harry, confused.

“I know, my bad. I know Tracey and Pansy are staying in the school, the rest are most likely leaving. I can assume that most will be celebrating Yule with their families, I’m sure you’re aware that it’s a common thing for pure-bloods.”

“Yeah, I was invited to a fair few by Narcissa and Lucius. Naturally, I took on door duty with Draco,” said Harry with an odd smile on his face, reminiscing about the days. “So I’ll be surrounded by girls, I pity myself.”

Rosier laughed and shook his head at Harry. “I guess when we all get back you’re going to wingman for us all.”

* * *

The holidays had practically started, the castle was rather empty and only a few students from each year remained, mainly the Muggleborn students, although a few pure-bloods remained behind, due to different reasons.

Harry was sitting in the first-year boys’ dormitory, alone, debating whether he should or should not go and see the others that were talking in the common room. He glanced down at the end of his bed and saw a pile of presents, of course. He reached down and picked up the smallest box, which was sat on top of all the others. The box was in plain brown packaging, with no bow or ribbon and held no note attached to it, it was simply plain. Harry tore the paper without a care in the world and frowned at what he had received. Inside the packaging was the note, he lifted the note and read the untidy scrawl, which simply said ‘ _To Harry, from Hagrid_.’ He dropped the letter on the floor in shock, why was the oaf sending him presents, did he think that he had no family like Longbottom? He glanced in the package and saw a single rock cake. “Pleasant,” he muttered to himself as he shoved it aside and picked up the next present.

He picked up the next present, which was decorated in Slytherin colours, a neatly scrawled note attached to the top that simply said his name. He shook it slightly, of course most presents were shrunken or had a Feather-Light Charm applied to it. He opened the present with the upmost care, unlike the present he had received from the oaf, he would care for this in case it was a special present. Inside was shrunken books, about ten he would assume, he studied the books carefully, noting that they were blank, the only thing that was on the covers was a roman numeral, he assumed they were a set instantly.

Harry picked up the first book in the series and opened the cover, he smiled and caught a note that slipped from the cover. He picked it up and read it quickly, a smirk forming on his face.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_These books should do you better than the books that are in the school’s library, Restriction Section included. These very books are the same books that I read when I attended school. You’ll find that they are rather unique and have been kept in the most pristine condition that you can image, as if they have just been printed, but this false as they are almost a millennium old. That very magic is these books. Magic to last a millennium. The only requirement is that you keep them and hand them to the next person that requires them. Oh, and that you understand roman numerals, as they’re used often in these books._

_Read them in order, or you’ll experience some moderate pain, depending on what you read first. Let’s say if you read book seven first, you’d experience your blood boiling, but enough about that._

_The Dark Arts aren’t a joke, if you mess around with this subject it’ll cause you severe mental issues that not even the best mind healer could repair. If you get lost in the art, then lose yourself and all the studying and knowledge will be for nothing as you’ll be more insane than the most insane person alive._

_I needn’t explain that casting any Dark Arts spells outside of the Slytherin common room will earn you a one-way trip to Azkaban. Salazar was a little lenient with his methods and over the years the castle has nullified any wards that monitor Dark Arts._

_The books will look like ordinary books to anyone else but you, tap the cover with your wand and then think of a cover that you want to be placed on the cover and it will. I personally set them to Hogwarts: A History but these days, I can assume that there’s much more boring books than that around. Use your head Mr. Potter, and do not get caught._

_T.M Riddle._

Harry stroked the spine of the book with his fingers, a curious expression on his face, who was this T.M Riddle, he had only spoken to Professor Quirrell about the Dark Arts, and even then, it wasn’t a lengthy conversation. A sudden thought filled his head, what if someone had overheard and now had blackmail material on him? He shook the though and instantly assumed it was an alias, after all, Professor Quirrell still wouldn’t be teaching if they were overheard and he was sure he caught the professor casting spells. He made a humming noise and slipped the books in his trunk, it’s not wise to get caught up on one gift, as he was taught by Narcissa, it’s rude to linger on one present when there’s more.

He had gotten the famed invisibility cloak, from his father none-the-less, which shocked him as he assumed it would go to Neville, as ‘ _the poor boy lost everything, so let’s take from Harry to give to him_ and the likes. From Lucius, Narcissa and Draco he received new robes and some hair products from Draco specifically. From Rosier, he got an old book, most likely about Transfiguration. Mrs. Weasley sent him a note, which he didn’t read.

He walked out into the Slytherin common room in a grey t-shirt and some loose slacks, which were also grey. His hair slightly untidy, due to the fact he woke up and then instantly opened presents, although he did brush his teeth, he would be a social outcast if he didn’t. He huffed and dropped into the sofa, next to the girl called Tracey Davis.

“Hello, Potter, you look like you just climbed out of bed,” said Tracey with a smile. “You’re lucky you have short hair, if you were a girl you’d have to at least brush your hair.”

Harry gave her a look and then chuckled slightly. “Or if my name was Draco Malfoy, I’m wouldn’t be surprised if he has a brush and hair products in his bed so that he can do it as soon as his eyes open.” He leant back and studied the room, so far he was the only male in the room, and he was surrounded by females. “I must thank you though, Davies.”

“Please call me Tracey, I don’t understand all this last name stuff.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow, a challenging smirk hit his face. “You called me Potter first, not even twenty seconds ago,” he then chuckled and gave her a quick wink. “You must call me Harry then. You’ll get used to it soon enough, first names are reserved for friends, although I will call Draco Malfoy when I’m annoyed with him. It seems to wound him greatly so.”

Tracey blushed slightly but pushed it aside. “You’re lucky to have a friend like Draco Malfoy, I have no one.”

“You have no friends? Sorry for the blunt words,” said Harry. “I mean no offense.”

“Not really, no. They avoid me because I’m a half-blood,” said Tracey the last word very soft, like if she said it any louder she would be kicked out of Slytherin. “Of course I don’t believe that blood means anything, but they do.”

Harry debated whether now was a good influence of the power he had on the other first-years, seeing as it was mostly full of them, besides the odd third-year or so. He gave Tracey a smile before he gave a slight nod, it confused her, but he paid it no attention. “Parkinson,” he said in a cold voice, not turning his head to look at the girl. He saw Tracey flinch besides him.

Pansy looked up when her name was said, she glanced around looking for the boy who said it, and there was only one in the common room. She met Potter’s eyes and huffed. She slowly walked towards Potter and Davies with a curious gleam in her eyes. “What do you want, Potter?”

“I learned something today, something that surprised me,” said Harry, making Pansy flinch. “I learned that my good friend here, Tracey, has been neglected and ignored in her own dormitory due to her apparent status as a half-blood.”

Pansy began to argue and was silence by a hand from Potter, and a look from Tracey.

“I realize that among the first-year girls, you’re seen as their leader, much like Draco is seen as the leader among the first-year boys, which is why I called you over and not Daphne Greengrass, who is currently staring at us with concern in her eyes.”

Pansy blushed slightly, following Potter’s gaze towards Daphne, who was giving her a curious look.

“I want you to include Tracey in your little circle of friends.”

“You’re a half-blood yourself, what makes you think I’m going to do what you ask?” scoffed Pansy, folding her arms over her chest.

“You dare even think that you’re better than me because your blood has supposedly been pure for two hundred years?” said Harry, his eyes flashing with slight annoyance. “Please, Parkinson, don’t make me laugh.”

“Longer than that!”

“Because your great-great-great-great grandfather married his own sister instead of a half-blood.”

Pansy scowled and turned to Tracey with a threat on her lips.

“Pansy, please,” said Harry. “I didn’t call you over here to discredit your family.”

“You say that, yet you did that regardless! How’d you even figure that out?”

Harry raised his eyebrows at her and watched as something flashed over her face.

“So the rumour is true?” said Pansy, glaring.

“What rumour?”

“That you, Potter, are a Legilimens, it was started by Terence Higgs and later confirmed by Gemma, the Prefect.”

“Yes, yes, whatever,” said Harry, waving Pansy off. “Perseus Parkinson, British Minister for Magic from 1726 to 1733. That’s an accomplishment, Pansy.”

“So?”

“Your family has had a Minister for Magic in it, not even the Potters can claim that,” said Harry reluctantly.

“Tracey, go talk to Daphne, I want to talk to Potter.”

Harry smirked at Pansy and watched Tracey walk from the sofa towards the other girl slowly. “Yes, Pansy?”


	18. Deceptive Desires

_Old Name_ : The Mirror of Erised

 _New Name_ : Deceptive Desires

 _Rewritten_ : 21/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry lay in bed, his body curled up as he glanced at the green curtain that was hung over his bed, which had become a routine for him each time was in bed, whether it was when waking up or going to sleep. The conversation that he had with Pansy still fresh in his mind. He wouldn’t call it a friendship, but instead an understanding. The first few days he refused to sit at the table in the Great Hall for meals, instead took them in the kitchens, until Pansy, Daphne and Tracey ganged up on his and dragged him along, flanking him as if anyone who got close would suffer for it. A few of the older boys whistled and openly mocked him for having three girls, but were hushed by Gemma, who in turn was the fourth.

He sighed and turned onto his side, knowing full well that jealousy was beneath him, he wasn’t a little kid anymore. He was eleven and at school, but that didn’t mean that he still didn’t want a letter from his own mother. Over the entire year he had only gotten three letters, that’s one a month, most other children get one per week, and he knew Neville got that many, probably more due to him being the Boy Who Lived.

Sighing, he climbed out of bed, hoping that a walk would clear his head. He picked up his cloak, effectively hiding his body and slowly walked out of the first-year boys’ dormitory. He pushed his hand against the exit to the common room.

“ **I can sense you** ,” hissed the snake engraving. “ **Do not get caught, hatchling**.”

“ **I won’t** ,” hissed Harry as he began trotting off down the cold dungeon corridors. He heard the snake making a snorting noise, if that was even possible for a snake to do and shook the thought instantly. He walked for about twenty minutes before he came across a door that was ajar. He looked around the room, it looked like a disused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls and there was an upturned waste-paper basket – but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

His mind worked instantly to solve the odd message carved into the ornate mirror. The first word he piece together was Erised, which was obviously desire spelt backwards. There, he had solved it. “Ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desire,” he whispered and then looked furious at how little sense it made. “I show – not your – face but – your hearts – desire,” he said slowly, until it all clicked into place. “Interesting.”

He stood in the middle of the mirror, and saw his reflection, he scoffed and debated calling the mirror a liar until he looked around and caught sight of a woman with dark red hair next to him, and he instantly knew it was his mother. He edged just a little closer, to the left of his reflection he saw his father with a proud smile on his face, a hand firmly on his shoulder. He was taken aback slightly, surely his greatest desire wasn’t his family, what a pathetic desire. What happened to the power, the fear, money or heritage? They made sense, this didn’t. He heard the door behind him open, and saw Neville Longbottom almost fall through the door and into the room, eternally grateful that he was invisible, he slinked across to the side and watched quietly.

He kept watching, trying not to laugh at the way Longbottom just rushed headstrong into the mirror, not even questioning what it was, the lack of self-preservation was strong.

“Mum?” whispered Neville at the mirror, tears threatening his eyes. “Dad?” he didn’t stick about before he barged from the room and his loud footsteps echoed back into the room.

“At least I didn’t cry,” said Harry to himself, shaking his head. “I wonder if what I desire will change now that Longbottom has seen the same thing as me, I hope it does, it really was pathetic.” He sat there debating it, completely lost on time he heard the door be shoved open and Weasley and Longbottom rushed in.

“See?” said Neville in a whisper, gesturing at the mirror.

“I can’t see anything,” replied Ron honestly, a slightly sleepy expression on his face.

“Look! Look at them all… there are loads of them!” said Neville in a hasty tone, hoping to persuade the red-headed boy.

Ron sighed. “I can only see you.”

“Look in it properly, go on. Stand where I am,” Said Neville, stepping aside. With Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn’t see his family any more, just Ron in his paisley pyjamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image. “Look at me!”

Neville smiled slightly. “Can you see all your family standing around you?”

Ron shook his head, still looking at the mirror. “No – I’m alone – but I’m different – I look older – and I’m Head Boy!”

“What?” choked Neville, letting his eyes dart between the Ron and the mirror.

“I am – I’m wearing the badge like Bill used to – and I’m holding the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup – I’m Quidditch captain, too!” Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Neville. “Do you think this mirror shows the future?”

“How can it? All my family are dead,” said Neville sadly. “Let me have another look!”

“You had it to yourself all just before, give me a bit more time.”

Neville frowned, but stood his ground. “You’re only holding the Quidditch Cup, what’s interesting about that? I want to see my parents.”

“Fine! I’m going back to bed.”

Harry followed, leaving Neville behind and went back to bed, his thoughts still focused on that mirror.

* * *

Harry managed to avoid the mirror for a while, but on the third day after seeing it, he had to go back and investigate, wondering if his desire had changed. His feet carried him through dungeons and into that abandoned classroom, he noticed the door was already open and he glanced at it curiously, making sure his cloak was hiding him fully. He stepped in and saw Longbottom on his knees in front of the mirror, he was about to remark when he saw someone sitting at one of the desks to the side. He remained quiet and stood there, waiting.

“So – back again, Neville?”

Neville felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Neville must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn’t noticed him. “I – I didn’t see you, sir.”

“Strange how short-sighted you can be when you’re in a hurry,” said Dumbledore with a smile, his eyes twinkling slightly. He slipped off the desk to sit on the floor with Neville. “You, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

Neville looked at Dumbledore with a slightly shocked facial expression. “I didn’t know it was called that, sir.”

Dumbledore gave a smile. “But I expect you’ve realised by now what it does?”

Neville seemed to stop in shock, he looked at the headmaster with a furrowed brow. “It – well – it shows me my family –“

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop the boy. “Just as it showed the same thing for young Harry, who just so happens to be standing just over there.”

Harry froze and then sneered, he yanked the cloak from himself with gritted teeth. “How did you know?”

“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” said Dumbledore rather gently, glancing towards the Slytherin boy. “Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?”

Neville instantly shook his head, already confused on the purpose of the mirror. He glanced at Harry and Dumbledore and waited for one of them to explain.

Harry snorted. “I show not your face but your heart’s desire,” he stopped with a smug look. “I read about it yesterday, it shows us what we desire.”

“Correct, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore proudly. “It’s better known as the Mirror of Erised.” He turned from Harry and towards Neville. “Let me explain it a little better. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?”

Neville debated it for a little while before speaking in a slow tone. “It shows us what we want – whatever we want.”

“Yes and no,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. I cannot explain what exactly Mr. Potter feels as he isn’t very vocal about it but I do know it has a lot to do with family. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth –”

“That’s false,” interrupted Harry, ignoring Neville’s gasp. “The mirror shows us our greatest desire, that’s knowledge. It will show us what we want the most, even if we have no idea ourselves.”

“Very good, Mr. Potter, I did not see it that way,” replied Dumbledore with a grandfatherly smile. “The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.”

Harry glanced at the headmaster. “May I ask you a question, Professor Dumbledore?”

“Obviously, you’ve just done so,” smiled Dumbledore and chuckled slightly before correcting himself. “You may ask me one more thing, however.”

Harry smirked. “What do you see when you look in the Mirror?”

Dumbledore said nothing for a brief period before he glanced at Harry with a forced smile. “I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks,” he ignored the look that he received from the Slytherin boy and continued on. “One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”

“Lying to a Slytherin isn’t a good idea, professor,” replied Harry, easily seeing through the façade. “You lied because what you saw was personal, yet, you were here spying on myself and Longbottom.” He turned to Longbottom, a frown on his face. “Because of events, you now know what I saw in the mirror. You repeat it to anyone and I’ll make you regret it, you may be safe at school but you’re not over the holidays.”

“There’s nothing wrong with desiring your family, Mr. Potter.”

Harry scowled. “Family makes you weak, I could care less about them.” With that said he stormed from the room, ignoring both the headmaster and Longbottom.

“I know he was lying,” whispered Neville to the headmaster quietly.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Potter simply cares too much about his family and thinks we will use that against him,” said Dumbledore and then paused for a moment. “Come on. While Mr. Potter can turn invisible and sneak back, you’ll have no such luck.”

* * *

“Come in, come in,” said Dumbledore as he gestured the professors into the room, ending with Professor Quirrell, who happily took his usual seat. “It’s been a month since out last meeting and I decided that we should hold these monthly instead of each fortnight, it’ll allow us to stop repeating information and allow new information to pass through.”

The professors nodded and waited in silence as the house-elves set the table with tea and some biscuits.

“I’m sure there’s plenty to talk about,” said Dumbledore, his grandfatherly smile in place. “But I don’t want to hold it up with my ramblings. You may begin, Minerva.”

Minerva, better known as Professor McGonagall smiled broadly at the fact she would get the first speech, which in her eyes was the most important. “I’ll start with the first-year Gryffindors, as they’re the newest and haven’t been covered yet. Mr. Longbottom has been gradually improving in some of his weaker subjects, but remains at a steady average level and nor falling behind in nay subjects. His strongest subjects are Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts, which is to be expected,” she gave the other professors a smile as they chuckled. “He’s still a little behind in Transfiguration, History and, of course, Potions.”

Dumbledore smiled fondly and listened as Minerva explained the other students in her house before she stopped, he sent her a curious look. “Is that all of your lions, Minerva?”

“Of course not!” said Minerva quickly. “Mr. Weasley is improving decently, excluding his constant fighting with Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy. As for Miss. Granger, she has become detached recently and refuses to tell me what has happened to cause her to retreat into herself. I have heard that something happened between her and Mr. Potter, but no solid proof has been given.”

The spotlight was given to Pomona, or Professor Sprout as she insisted to be called and she told her events of her house, which was Hufflepuff. It was soon passed down the table and landed on Filius, who squeaked that he would rather be addressed formally as Professor Flitwick, not that he didn’t see his colleagues beneath him, which got a chuckle, and he gave a description on his Ravenclaws.

Professor Snape sneered when everyone turned to him, his dark eyes narrowed and he began to expression his concerns with his house, mainly the first-years as that’s what everyone seemed to discuss. “I’m not sure what’s happening with Mr. Potter,” he said after discussing Rosier. “He hasn’t been himself since after the troll incident.”

“W-what do you m-mean, S-Snape?” said Professor Quirrell, intrigue filling his facial expression.

Professor Snape acted as if he didn’t hear the man and instead scowled. “I’m sure that most of you are aware of Mr. Potter’s childhood, as Lily came and spoke to a lot of you on what she should do about her son, who continued to remain in a sick state. Harry was a very, very sick child, there’s not much else putting it any differently, because it would just place sugar on a lemon, as the idiom goes. He would have periods where he would be fine and then other periods where he couldn’t move, talks or even open his eyes. He shied from bright light, acting as if it would harm him and instead focused on the shadows and found happiness in solitude with a book. Of course, no one could ask the boy what was wrong as he couldn’t speak.”

“The poor boy!” said Professor Sprout, her inner Hufflepuff coming to light.

“Indeed,” said Professor Snape. “Nothing Lily did would cure any malady that her son had and she got desperate and began to hire and contact several professional healers, advanced in their fields. Some charged and others didn’t, feeling bad for her and her suffering son. Some even suggested that he should be ‘put out of his misery’ which ended with them being hexed by Lily. A select few spent days and nights working on it and suggested that his sickness came from an untraceable source and that if he had been a Muggle that he would have died long before he reached the age of two. They eventually found his magical core and done a very small study on it, revealing that he had the magical core the size of a fully grown male, which was most likely causing his sickness.”

“A fully grown man?” said Professor Flitwick, surprised. “That’s outrageous!”

“After Harry regained his speech, at the age of six, he told me that one day he wanted to grow up and be in control, that he deserved it because of what he experienced in his life and it would repay him for the suffering that he had endured. He was – is – a small boy that was set on ruling the world, and that even from a young age he had plans to fulfil it,” said Professor Snape, his tone as normal as it could be, despite the tense air in the room. “At first I laughed it off and encouraged him to seek the world and hold it in his hands, but I soon learned that he was serious. He read books that most first-years would struggle to grasp before he was even in the age of double digits. He was reading and learning excessively was so he could have power over people.”

Dumbledore paled slightly as he remembered a small, fragile boy who was on a very similar path not even fifty years ago. “I have only ever seen him as a smart boy who appeared to be overshadow by Neville.”

“Mr. Potter was doing more feats of magic before Mr. Longbottom could even read a book. No, I believe that Mr. Potter deplores Mr. Longbottom simply because he was given fame without doing anything –”

“But Mr. Longbottom did something.”

“Not in Mr. Potter’s eyes,” said Professor Snape. “Mr. Potter has been described as cantankerous, fractious or any other definition of that sort. He’s very intelligent and has a very high desire to prove himself to other people, to show them that he is more than what you see, more than a scar on a forehead.”

“Mr. Potter comes off as cocky and obstreperous.”

Every professor sitting in the room turned towards the voice that had said nothing for the entire meeting. The voice belonged to Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy professor.

“Forgive me,” said Aurora with a sigh. “But he does.”

“The cockiness is a trait from his father,” sneered Professor Snape. “But he is far from obstreperous, are you sure you have the correct word, Aurora?”

“Yes, Severus, I am.”

“I must agree with Severus on this matter, Aurora,” said Professor Flitwick. “He spends most of his time in silence and actively avoid open conflict. He may know an answer in class and he’ll give me this look that says that he knows it, but won’t raise his hand like Miss. Granger. It’s a look that says that if no one else knows, he’ll tell me.”

“Recently she has stopped,” said Professor Sprout. “Perhaps someone said something to her?”

“Don’t look at me,” said Professor Snape. “Someone obviously beat me at telling her that she is an insufferable know-it-all.”

“Severus,” warned Dumbledore.

“Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley came up to me a while ago and claimed that Mr. Potter made her cry in the library,” said Minerva, leaning forwards slightly, her hand wrapped around the warm cup. “That was the day that Miss. Granger began to with draw into herself.”

“What could Mr. Potter say to strike that much of a nerve?” said Professor Snape with a blank face.

“Perhaps that she was an insufferable know-it-all?” said Minerva, releasing her grip on the cup. “Mr. Potter is just as sharp-tongued as you, Severus, whether you want to realize it or not.”

“You assume that I convinced Mr. Potter, a student, to openly taunt another student?” said Professor Snape. “If I could convince him of anything, it’d be to drop that stupid phrase of his.”

“Phrase?” said Professor Flitwick, leaning forwards.

“Knowledge is power,” said Professor Snape with a sigh. “I’m not sure where he picked it up from, or if it just connected in his head and that’s that, but he follows it with his entire being.”

“That must be why he spends so much time in the library,” said Professor Flitwick.

“In some sense,” said Professor Snape slowly. “According to a recent rumour in the Slytherin common room, a fellow member told Mr. Potter that he was nothing special and that triggered something inside the boy and he ignored everyone in order to focus on studying. Recently, Miss. Parkinson was able to get him to recoin the house at meals.”

“That was nice of her.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Professor Snape, looking at the Head of Hufflepuff. “Mr. Potter was sorted into Slytherin, a house that respect power. As much as his initial sorting confused me at first, as the Sorting Hat’s outburst, it makes sense now.”

“I didn’t sort Harry Potter into Slytherin so that the boy could get what he wanted. Do you dare think that a mere child could manipulate me?”

Every professor swivelled around and looked directly at the old Sorting Hat, which had its crease firmly in place, revealing a mouth.

If it were possible for a hat to actually snort, this one would have. “Mr. Potter, as you call him, was a rather rare specimen, at least from what I gathered on my short time on his head. A natural Occlumens and an already perfected mindscape at that. He attempted to push me from his mind from the moment I entered, even if I did skirt around for a while, I felt him watching me in his mind,” the hat made a sound that sounded like laughter. “I’ll be brief, as I refuse to create a small novel on a child. If I had placed the boy into Hufflepuff, and the Helga side of me demanded that he come to her house, he could have easily manipulated them into blindly following him with simple promises. I dare not call him evil or any other abbreviation of that term, but it could have reached the stage where he could have thrown a curse that killed and they would stand there and take it in stride.”

“If I were to place him in Ravenclaw, and yes, before you ask, the Inner Rowena in me demanded that I take him, would have been able to lead the Ravenclaws with perfection, as the boy is naturally intelligent, due to excessive studying and a sponge like memory. He hasn’t got an eidetic memory, but I dare Assume he comes close, with the assistance of Occlumency. Gryffindor, oh Godric loved the boy, even if the boy wasn’t suited for his house at all, at least in basic terms, Godric wanted him. The boy would have earned the respect needed, especially with his father, for the lions to instantly jump to his defence. Sadly, he would have been the anti-hero in that house, by his minor thoughts, he wants nothing to do with a certain boy, who was sorted into Gryffindor just a few moments before he was.”

“So you placed him into Slytherin because you had a feeling he would manipulate everyone?” asked Professor Snape cautiously, not wanting to be pulled into an argument with a hat that contained each part of the four founders, which was just asking for trouble.

“He was destined for Slytherin, even if I was compelled to place him somewhere else, he would have landed in Slytherin, no matter what,” said the Sorting Hat cryptically. “Salazar was very, very interested in the boy, but wasn’t as vocal as the other three. Even when the boy’s inner thoughts about how useless Hufflepuff tend to be, Helga still wanted him, most likely to cuddle him and explain that he would be fine. Rowena wanted him to study what was wrong with him and Godric was being Godric. Mr. Potter is destined for greatness, he will do many things that people will remember.”

Dumbledore studied the Sorting Hat with wariness.

“Worry not, headmaster,” said the Hat. “Slytherin will prove to be the hardest challenge will ever face.”

The professors in the room fell quiet after what the Soring Hat had said, each debating on the words that it had spoken, silently and hoping to put the complicated puzzle together.

“Is it a good thing that the Soring Hat had placed him in Slytherin? If I recall, it is rather hard to acquire power there due to the house being filled with mostly noble and wealthy pure-blood families.”

“I believe so, Minerva,” said Dumbledore softly. “It does not make sense why his greatest desire is his family loving him or something of the likes.”

“You realized that too?” said Professor Snape, genuine shock on his face. “I followed him the first night, I felt a first-year Slytherin leave the common room and promptly followed. He was a little vocal about what he saw on the way back to the common room.”

“What are you two discussing?” said Professor Sprout, her hands pressed onto her hips. “Following students, learning their greatest desires. Also a ward, really, Severus?”

“After Mr. Potter snuck out and brewed a highly illegal poison, I had to make sure he was staying in bed,” said Professor Snape. “I am glad I did.”

“H-He made a p-poison?” asked Professor Quirrell. “Why is he n-not e-expelled?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Dumbledore gave a gesture with his hands and smiled at the professor. “All solved now.”

Most of the professors weren’t convinced but dropped the issue and began to talk about proper issues around the school and not about two or three students. Of course Professor Binns, who never attended any staff meetings, was mentioned constantly. The long and tedious staff meeting came to a close twenty odd minutes later and a line of highly bored adults walked out of the room in a neat file, until they reached the corridor, then they slightly clumped into a group.

* * *

Harry was sitting in the library, not in his usual spot though, nope, he was in position that gave him perfect vision of the entrance to the Restricted Section of the library. He watched the gate with dedication until two voices cut through the silence. He scowled and looked around, searching for the offending people. He pushed the voices from his head, but it didn’t work, they were so loud and – and where in Salazar’s name was Madam Pince? When he sneezed she was directly in his face, scowling and brandishing her feather duster in his face. He got up from his position with a scowl and began to peak around each bookshelf, hoping to find the two culprits and tell them to shut their mouths, perhaps in a nicer way in case they were decent. Although, he had a feeling he already knew who the voices belonged to, he just couldn’t be sure. He turned a corner and spotted a pile of books and caught the tail end of a conversation.

“I don’t know why Hermione is making us search this!” moaned Ron, gesturing at the piles of books. “It’s useless! Who cares who Nico –” he paused, spotting the Slytherin with an amused smirk on his face, just off to the side. “What’re you doing Potter, spying on us?”

Harry snorted, taking a step towards the two Gryffindor boys. “I’ll have you know, Weasley, that this is a library and not some super-secret meeting place for you Gryffindorks to discuss your flawed and stupid plans. People come here to do research, not eavesdrop on your stupid plans,” he feigned a gasp and then chuckled. “You can be truthful to me, Weasley, you know that – oh, I just figured it out! You two are teaching each other to read! I was wondering why you were doing so poorly in classes. It’s no surprise really, living in a stack of shacks stacked on top of each other with twelve other people. Hardly any room for books with your family’s budget.”

Ron’s face discoloured rather disgustingly so, his face’s colour nearly matching his hair, with a tint of purple and blue. He dashed over the table in a fit of anger and rage, knocking books flying, lunging at Potter, driving his fist into the Slytherin boy’s face, causing his nose to bleed. He huffed and pushed the Slytherin boy down on to ground and roughly scrunched his robes.

“Unhand me this instant, Weasley, these robes cost more than your shack,” muttered Harry, completely unbothered by the blood trickling from his nose. He did debate throwing a random curse at the boy on him, but then he realized that he wanted a perfect record, it would earn him the most respect in the long run. “Longbottom, your parents didn’t die for you to just stand there and gape – oof!” He winced as a fist connected with his stomach. “Weasley, must you be so plebeian?”

“What is this just now?” screeched Madam Pince, startling both Neville and Ron. “Get off him, Mr. Weasley!” She turned to Harry and watched as he corrected himself. “Explain.”

Harry finished unwrinkling his robes and gave the woman a slightly bloody smile. “Well you see madam, I was simply in here getting ready to use my pass to access to Restricted Section – as you’re aware, Professor Quirrell assigned me one – and these two decided, because I was a Slytherin, that I was going in there to study Dark Magic and curse people.” He huffed. “They stopped me and almost made me drop the book I was carrying, very disrespectful, to have such troublemakers in your pristine and beautiful library, trying to destroy books.”

Madam Pince turned towards the Gryffindors and watched as they got angry and began shaking their heads at Harry. ‘Clearly told the poor Slytherin not to tell on them _,_ ’ she thought and pointed her duster at the Gryffindors. “Out! Two week ban from the library!” She looked at Harry and gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll have some peace and quiet in here now, Mr. Potter. Now trot off and get your nose fixed, I’ll speak to Professor McGonagall about her students and see if I can get some points removed.” She ushered the boy out and smiled as he complimented her library as he left, he was such a caring boy, and she knew that Slytherins may be cunning, but she knew one hundred percent that he was genuine in what he had said.

Harry sat in the Infirmary re-telling his story to the nurse, who seemed to also be swayed by his charm and instantly believed him and demanded some kind of punishment. “Gryffindors are always like this – just yesterday I treated one for a broken arm from fighting!” Madam Pomfrey explained as she cleaned up Harry’s face. “They always pick on the lone Slytherins, it’s not uncommon for me to patch one of you up from their recklessness.”

“I did hope I wouldn’t have to waste your time with such a minor injury, but Madam Pince insisted and who am I to pass up a lovely visit with the best school matron I have ever met,” said Harry honestly, he rather liked Madam Pomfrey.

“There isn’t a student that hasn’t yet come into the hospital wing, Mr. Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey and then chuckled. “Not many are actually as nice as you are, they get fixed then leave and do the same thing again! Regardless, you may have some issues breathing through your nose for a few minutes, but that will wear off.” She said and ushered the boy out, debating why the two Gryffindors would target such a sweet and kind boy.

* * *

Harry spent the last few days of the Christmas holidays debating on whether he should open and begin reading the Dark Arts books he received from Professor Quirrell. Essentially when the other roommates of his returned there wouldn’t be that much free time that he could read without any distractions or people figuring out that he was reading anything illegal, not that anyone in the Slytherin house would care, it must be kept a secret. He let his index finger trail the spine of the book that was titled I in roman numerals, of course he still had to change the covers but he wouldn’t do that until the night before everyone else returned.

He sighed and blew out a long breath, his green eyes filling with a slight dullness and darkening as he continued to think about reading the books, he wanted to, he really did, but he didn’t want to rush into it like his mind was currently providing. It was either think about the books or about that stupid mirror that was now hidden away because Longbottom couldn’t move around the castle stealthily. That of course brought back the reflection of his greatest desire, his family, which he didn’t understand at all, he could care less about them. He should have seen himself sitting on a throne with money filling around and loyal servants bowing to his every whim, but no, he saw his stupid family, how disgustingly Hufflepuff.

He slid the books back into his trunk, his mind firmly set on waiting before he touched them, maybe he would start tomorrow night or maybe later on tonight, but as for now, he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get much more peace while alone in the castle. The instant he sat on his bed a note appeared in the room, curious on how he didn’t see how it appeared he assumed it was the work of a house-elf or the likes, maybe a sneaky bird. He picked it up and skimmed the letter briefly.

_Mr. Potter,_

_If you would be kind to come to office at let’s say three PM today for a little chat and some tea I would appreciate it._

_Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards._

Harry frowned at the short letter, he wasn’t sure why he expected anything more, in fact he was quite annoyed when the headmaster put more into his titles than what the headmaster had written for him. What irked him the most was that it was a demand and not a question, it was just assumed that everything would be dropped for some tea and a little chat with the dear old headmaster? If he had any say at all in the matter, he would tell the headmaster where he can kindly place his tea.

He glanced at the clock and realized he had twenty minutes until it was three, talk about cutting it close. He pushed off the bed and fastened his cloak tightly round his person and made his way from the first-year boys’ dormitory and into the Slytherin common room, glancing at Tracey and Pansy briefly before walking from the room. He weaved around the few students that were lurking in the corridor and of course the stray Gryffindors who seemed to take pride and stalking the entrance to the headmaster’s office. The gargoyle moved aside the instant he stepped in front of the thing, he began to climb the stairs with a scowl on his face.

“Mr. Potter, I am glad you could make it,” said Dumbledore as he waved the door open, revealing the Slytherin boy mid-knock on the door. “Would you like a sherbet lemon?”

“No thank you, headmaster,” said Harry as he sat in the chair that was opposite the headmaster, he glanced at the other two chairs in the room with a confused expression, he was really hoping that he wasn’t having another family meeting. He waited for the headmaster to speak before he said anything, not wanting to accidently steer the conversation against him.

Dumbledore decided to break the silence. “Do you know why I called you here, Mr. Potter?” he asked with a slow tone that seemed to show some exhaustion in his words.

“For a chat and some tea, obviously.”

Dumbledore waved off the sarcasm and smiled at the boy. “Very recently, you said something has caused me to reflect on it constantly. You must forgive me for being curious, Mr. Potter.”

“I say a lot of different things, headmaster, some are private and others are for the public,” said Harry almost warily, thinking back to that blasted mirror once more. “Although, I thought these things would be sent straight to the Head of Slytherin instead of wasting your _precious_ time with minor things.”

Dumbledore smiled slightly. “I don’t see the issues of my students to be a waste of my time, Mr. Potter, in fact, it’s the opposite.” He summoned a pot of tea and poured himself one, not bothering to ask if the Slytherin boy wanted any as he already knew the answer would be no. “I did not ask if you wanted any, Mr. Potter, I may be old, but I am not senile.”

“I never implied you were, headmaster,” replied Harry in a flat tone of voice, his eyes curiously going to the two chairs near him. “What did you wish to discuss, Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore ignored the deliberate switching of his title, it was done as an intimidation tactic and not the first time done in this very office, at least judging by the portraits that showed no reaction, only amusement. Some professors handled it amazingly, Minerva was the best example for that, likewise Severus was the best example for those that demanded respect. “I only just realized how similar to Mr. Malfoy you are.” He mentally congratulated himself when he saw the confusion flicker across the boy’s face before it was masked. A small victory.

“As most people seem to be aware, Lucius Malfoy taught me a lot of politics and nuances as I was growing up,” said Harry calmly. “Which is what a decent father should do for his son, even if Lucius isn’t my father, he certainly acted as if he was one. I was frequently told that I learned the lessons rather quickly.”

Dumbledore gave a smile. So that’s who he had learned the title switching from, it was a Malfoy thing and something that Lucius utilized often enough. “Interesting, you enjoy politics then, Mr. Potter?” he asked, curious about how the boy stood in politics, not many eleven year olds would touch it, and then again, Harry Potter was obviously not a normal eleven year old.

“In a sense, I do, headmaster. It’s interesting to see that some wizards will blindly follow whatever another says, even if the evidence is presented in front of them,” said Harry and waited for any sort of flicker across the headmaster’s face, when nothing happened he inwardly scowled. “I assume that you’re making small chat and didn’t invite me here to discuss politics.”

Dumbledore gave the boy a grandfatherly smile and sipped on his tea, his left hand firmly on his lap. “Of course, I see you are perceptive as always, Mr. Potter. I am curious on why you consider your family to be a weakness,” he said bluntly and then shook his head mentally. Silly, silly! Foolish to be blunt with a Slytherin and allow them the edge. He was doing so well up until now. Harry Potter was so similar to Severus in aspects of conversation, then add in a fair amount of Lucius’ personality into the mix and finally the natural talent at Occlumency that allows the boy to lie without anyone being any the wiser. “Of course, many have said the same thing, but they eventually lost their family and regret their words.”

Harry stayed silent for a brief moment, glancing at the headmaster with slightly narrowed eyes. “I fail to see how that’s relevant, sir.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I have seen plenty of students, Mr. Potter, who have followed that same phrase that you tend to follow,” he gave the Slytherin boy a sad smile. “That knowledge is power, it is incorrect. You could be the smartest person in the world and still have very little power. I do not want you to make the wrong choices and have to suffer from then six or seven years from now.” He paused and grasped his hands together. “Family is important, Mr. Potter, it can be the strength that you need to stay sane, or the blanket that keeps you warm.”

“Relying on others will only serve to weaken me, not strengthen me,” Harry all but hissed at the headmaster, already fed up with the direction of this conversation. “You only learned what you did about me by snooping and spying on me with that mirror, you then lied to my face about what you saw. Your greatest desire is personal, so now you know how I feel when you saw or heard what I saw in that mirror.”

“I regret that, Mr. Potter, but you must understand that I was only trying to – ah, Neville, come in and take a seat,” said Dumbledore, ignoring the scowl on the Slytherin boy’s face. “Mr. Potter and I were just having a little chat, I’m sure Mr. Weasley will be here shortly?”

Not even three minutes later Ronald Weasley walked in looking rather distraught and angry, with a small frown plastered on his slightly reddened face, clearly from venting or ranting to himself. “Sorry I’m late Dumbledore –”

“Professor Dumbledore,” corrected Harry, despite the fact he has called the man Dumbledore plenty of times. “Regardless, I better let you two have you little meeting while I go and continue to study for the next Charms assignment, if my research is right we’ll be learning the Fire-Making Spell and I would like to have all study complete on the subject.”

“That will not be required, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore calmly, while gesturing Ron into the vacant seat. “I’m sure you will have adequate time while in class to learn the spell, after all, Professor Flitwick is highly skilled in the art of Charms.”

“There’s two students that thrive in keeping the entire class behind,” said Harry calmly. “Of course it cannot be helped that some families cannot afford to teach their children how to read.”

“Now, now, Mr. Potter, I will bring it up at the next staff meeting,” said Dumbledore fondly, earning a smile from Neville. “I have heard from three different professors that a fight took place in the library and that two of you have two week bans from the library,” he said calmly, eyeing the Slytherin carefully. “I would like to know the full story as I’m rather sure the story has been twisted.”

“I was in the library and Weasley punched me in the face while I was looking for books,” said Harry instantly, getting in the first word. “There’s not a story to tell about it, although I did hear that no points or detentions were assigned, seeing as that is Weasley’s second offence for fighting. I was just lucky that Madam Pomfrey is talented and salvaged my nose before it ended looking broken or something else hideous.”

Dumbledore turned his gaze towards Ron Weasley, a hint of disapproval filled his blue eyes. “So what I was told by three different people was that you did indeed start a fight in the library?”

Ron gave a slow nod, highly intimidated by the headmaster. “Yes, sir, I did hit Potter because he insulted my family and then mocked Neville’s dead parents!”

“I did not mock his dead parents, I simply said they didn’t die for Longbottom to just stand around and let others be punched in the face,” said Harry with an eye roll. “As far as I’m aware, Mrs. Longbottom and my mother were close friends, not Mrs. Longbottom and Mrs. Weasley. You have no idea what you’re talking about. The Longbottom’s were Aurors, both of them.”

Dumbledore raised his hand, silencing the bickering boys instantly. “Well now boys, I must admit that you both were at fault –”

“How was I at fault?” Harry instantly interrupted. “I was in the library books looking for something and they accused me of spying on their stupid discussion, which I heard nothing about.”

“You mocked Neville’s parents, do you not think that is a little too far, Mr. Potter?” said Dumbledore in a tired voice, a part of him wondering how he can break through with Harry Potter and stop him from making mistakes. “I can assure you if it was the other way around, you’d be rather upset if it was your mother being mocked.” He hoped this was the case, he hoped that the Slytherin boy would realize that he was being rather heartless and just admit it, of course it was wishful thinking that he was not granted.

“I wouldn’t care.”

It was those three words that made Albus Dumbledore realize that Harry Potter was either a very cold and detached person or he was simply walking on the wrong path. He wondered what could have caused the boy to act like he does, he has two loving parents, something that Neville doesn’t have, maybe that’s the reason. He sighed tiredly and observed the three eleven year old boys sitting in his office. Neville looked rather upset, it was obvious the boy missed his parents terribly so and that what Harry Potter said had hurt him greatly. Ron Weasley looked like he would punch Harry Potter again if he had the chance to. Then there was Harry Potter, who still had his arms folded over his chest, a blank expression placed on his face but the stunning green eyes that were fully from Lily clouded with anger and… indignation?

The major lingering question on Dumbledore’s mind was would Harry Potter follow in the same footsteps that Tom Riddle once did or would he carve his own path and is just as detached and hateful as the Tom that once stepped foot in this school? Both seem to hold a crazy aspiration to know everything and that’s what separates Harry and Tom, the latter had no idea this world existed, the former grew up in it. “Mr. Potter, when you grow up, and have finished your education, what would you like to become?”

“I’d like to be the Minister for Magic.”

A rather ambitious and childlike ambition at that. Dumbledore was sure that he had heard that one hundreds of time already and most never sought it out later in life.

“– of course I wouldn’t mind being the Defence Against Dark Arts professor, I’d love to help future children grow into intelligent members of the wizarding society.”

“Becoming the Minister for Magic is a large ambition, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore with a slight smile. He was not going to comment on the second option at all. “What about you, Mr. Weasley?”

 If you only invited us here to talk about our future career, can I please leave? I honestly don’t care and I could be studying during this time,” snapped Harry with agitation, his voice cutting across Ronald Weasley, who was just about to speak.

“Of course, Mr. Potter, if you wish to leave, you may,” said Dumbledore, his tone tired and his aged face filled with concern. He watched the Slytherin boy give a curt nod and then flee the room. “Now, Mr. Weasley, why don’t you continue?”

Ron gave the headmaster a grin as he dived into the details of his future career, almost perfect details, as if he had thought about it his entire life. The career had merit and could be achieved easily with a little dedication and late-night studying, but not a hard career to chase after.

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead tiredly when his office was once again clear, the pieces of parchment from the staff meeting scattered neatly across his desk. He took in a deep breath and faced the biggest issue at hand, and that was if comparing Harry Potter to Tom Riddle had any merit or it was just due to the fact that overambitious Slytherin students tend to stand out a lot more, or because they were similar, but Harry Potter is just displaying it quicker due to his upbringing.

Each house wanted Harry Potter, even those that the boy had no traits for because the founders loved the boy, or at least the part of them in the Sorting Hat. Was it the same for Tom Riddle? Or was he once again misunderstanding the situation at hand?

* * *

Harry huffed and dropped onto the green sofa that was in the corner of the Slytherin common room. His eyes darted towards Tracey, who was sitting with Pansy and Daphne, laughing at something said. He had noticed that Tracey’s mood had improved since she was no longer a social outcast and was getting on better with the rest of the girls in Slytherin.

‘ _Social outcasts are easier to manipulate_ ,’ said Tom cheekily.

Harry groaned.

‘ _Don’t be like that, Harry_.’

Harry smirked and quickly wiped it from his face before anyone noticed and called him out on it. Of course, it was only him that could have a conversation with himself and not doubt it. Clearly he was a nutcase.

“Harry! There you are!” said Tracey, dropping down next to the boy. “You know that I have spent the last twenty minutes searching around the dungeons for you? Of course you don’t, else you’d be apologising to me. Where have you been?”

“Dumbledore.”

“What’d he want?” sneered in Pansy from the side. “I’m pretty sure his middle name is meddle.”

“He has like six middle names,” said Harry, taking out the note that he got. “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

“That’s three, not six.”

“Be quiet, Pansy.”

Tracey glared. “You two fight like an old married couple,” she said, staring at both of them. “When’s the wedding?”

“Wedding?” said Pansy at the same time Harry said, “never!”

Tracey rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said, smirking. “There’s a rumour going around that a Gryffindor punched you in the face. Of course I didn’t believe it, you’d never let anyone hit you.”

Harry flushed. “Oh, he did, Tracey, not a rumour at all.”

“Really,” said Pansy, leaning in. “You got punched in the face? Juicy.”

“Hmph.”

“Go on! Go on!” urged Tracey.

“I let him punch me in the face simply so he would get in trouble,” continued Harry, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Do you really think that Weasley could beat me in any kind of fight? He’s pathetic.”

Tracey sat still for a moment. “Something about it adds up, I’m not sure why, but it just does.”

“It took all my restraint to dodge the punch and hex him – you know, fighting natural instincts and all that, but I did manage to stand still long enough for him to hit me and then keep him there long enough for Madam Pince to come and give them a two week ban from the library.”

“That’s it?”

“No, Pansy,” said Harry, sending the girl a glare. “She asked what was going on and I explained that they attacked me because I was going into the Restricted Section to practice Dark Magic and then swayed her with a few compliments to her library and she was on my side from the start.”

“A real Slytherin wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

“You wound me, Pans.”

“DON’T CALL ME PANS!”

“Don’t scream, Pansy,” said Tracey. “Just let him finish.”

“Yeah, Pans, let me finish!”

“Stop tormenting her,” muttered Tracey under her breath. “Salazar help me, you two are just as bad as each other.”

“I was sent to Madam Pomfrey instantly, and when I told her my story she was swayed to my side and muttered about boisterous Gryffindors under her breath.”

“I knew it!”

Harry, Tracey and Pansy all spun around and searched for the voice that was pretty much shouted from directly behind them. All three of them looked at the girl with pigtails almost as long as her arms with slight confusion.

“The talk between the professors about the Slytherin house being treated unfairly by students and professors alike came from you! I just knew that it couldn’t be a coincidence! Even he agreed with me,” the girl said, flicking her thumb towards the boy next to her. “What’re you trying to do?”

“I’m just trying to put Slytherin back in its rightful place, which is at the top, and even the playing field a little bit. Three houses against one? That’s not fair,” said Harry in a rehearsed tone of voice, as if he had been reading a script with those very words for the previous three weeks. “Forgive my ignorance, but who are you? I haven’t exactly seen you around.”

“I’m Adelaide Murton, heiress to the Murton line,” said Adelaide haughtily, adding a lot of unneeded emphasis on her surname. “I’m a second-year.”

Harry nodded and turned his gaze towards the boy, who looked as if he was about to wet himself.

“Go on, Hortense,” whispered Adelaide.

The boy shook his head.

“This is Hortense Rowland,” said Adelaide for the boy. “He’s also a second-year but about as timid and shy as a first-year.”

“Hufflepuff,” sniffed Pansy. “Why is he so shy?”

“Long story and not relevant to our discussion,” said Adelaide, glaring. “Pick a fight with Hortense and you’re picking a fight with his older brother, who is a sixth-year and has been top of the class in Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration since he was a third-year.”

Hortense gave a toothy smile which vanished the moment eyes fell on him.

“No need to be so defensive,” said Pansy. “What brings you two over here anyway? I hope you weren’t eavesdropping on our conversation.”

“Sorry about that, but I heard you three speaking and I was simply curious. Hortense came along for the ride.”

“Hm?”

“I agree with your methods, Potter, it’s honestly about time someone did something for the Slytherin house.”

“Right,” said Harry, looking at Hortense with narrowed eyes. “We cannot do much if you sit around silent.”

Hortense frowned for a moment, and with a few encouraging words from Adelaide he stood a little straighter. “I also agree,” he said shakily. “I’m sure that my brother will agree with you as well, he dealt with a lot of things during his six years here, even worse it was a few years ago – he’d write to me almost daily and complain.”

Harry listened to Hortense with an easy ear. He could tell by the slight quivering in the voice that they boy didn’t want to speak, as if speaking pained him and that bought back horrible memories from his first six years alive.

“The united front that we have is easily see-through,” continued Hortense, unaware of all the stares. “We make easy targets because of it, and we should change that. You’re just a first-year, but I already know that you’ll change this house.”

“The only question is what you’ll do first,” said Adelaide, smiling at Hortense.

Harry sat perfectly still for a moment, aware that all eyes were on him and this did nothing but confuse him. It was like they expected him to have the answer and lead them. “I believe we should focus on the Hufflepuffs,” he said after a short period of thinking. “We can try and set up a study group with them and see how it goes from there.”

Pansy had a look of horror on her face. “No,” she said. “No, no, no!”

“Shut up, Pansy,” said Harry with a sneer. “Trust me on this. You can rant and moan about it all you like, even complain that it’s pointless, but I assure you that it’s the best course of action, and here’s why.”

Pansy scowled and listened to the boy as he dived into a lengthy description about how the Hufflepuffs would help them as they’re the house of loyalty. She out a sigh of relief when someone shouted Potter’s name and the boy stopped his dry monologue sounding speech that contained more use of the word ‘I’ then she had ever heard in her lifetime.

“HARRY!” shouted Gemma once more, running across the common room, almost knocking a third-year over. “I’m so glad that I can finally see you! It’s been ages!”

Harry smiled. “I agree –”

“I heard what happened!” said Gemma, cutting off Harry. How dare that boy even think about hitting you? Do you want me to hex him? I know a few good ones, as I said earlier this year.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “It’s great to see you again Gemma, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Gemma waved him off and inspected his nose slightly. “Your cute little nose isn’t damaged, thank Merlin!” she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around though, Harry, I’ve had such a busy few months with my O.W.Ls and stuff, it’s really draining, especially with my Prefect round sand argh!”

Harry couldn’t stifle that came up and laughed even more at Gemma’s outraged face about laughing. “I’m sorry, but it was just funny, you panicked about my nose of all things.”

Gemma kept her facial expression the same but eventually laughed which caused the makeshift group to chuckle as well. “I have never met anyone else who has such a cute little nose, it’s like it hasn’t grown at all and you still have a baby nose!” she ignored the glare she got and continued commenting about his nose until she had to leave and continue her Prefect rounds. “Listen, Harry, I’ll try and speak with you more as soon as I can, alright?”

“Of course, Gemma,” said Harry with a wide smile. “Make sure you punish those rowdy and annoying Gryffindorks out there and protect the Slytherins.”

“Cute little nose,” mocked Pansy. “I never noticed it, but you do have –”

“Quiet!” hissed Harry. “Now, we need to set up a quick and easy plan and a backup plan that’ll help us secure the trust of Hufflepuffs, and only the Hufflepuffs.”

Pansy muttered about the kitchen and food and then threw her head back when everyone glared at her.

“I believe we could do a study group,” said Harry after ten minutes of debating. “We make a study group with the Hufflepuffs and we work from there. With the loyalty that we gain from the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws will have another reason to come to us and form a study group of three, turning the tables on the Gryffindors.”

“Which means we’ll be at the top and the Gryffindors on the bottom,” said Pansy, twisting her hair. “Decent plan.”

“Of course it’s decent,” said Harry, lifting his chin. “I made it.”

“Ease up there, Potter,” said Pansy, glaring. “If your ego gets any more inflated you’ll be on the same level as Draco.”

“Why do you call Draco, Draco and me Potter?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“SHUT UP!” said Adelaide with a long sigh, her eyes narrowed. “How will we get the Hufflepuffs on our side and actually join a study session? The idea has merit. The only issue that we face now is that most Hufflepuffs wouldn’t dare even associate with us, even if we tell them we mean no harm. Years of damage has already been done.”

“It does pose a problem,” said Hortense softly.

“Yeah, it’s only my first year here and I’ve never actually seen a Slytherin ever speak to another member of another house, at least on friendly terms,” said Tracey, thinking back towards the few months that she had been here. “It’s odd.”

“That’s because it’s illegal for us to do so,” said Adelaide. “Did none of you listen to the speech that Professor Snape gave?”

“No,” said Harry. “I was looking at my nails.”

“Girl,” sneered Pansy. “More girlish than Draco.”

Adelaide sighed. “It’s stated that we shouldn’t speak to other houses as it’ll just cause conflict and get us hurt.”

“That’s pathetic,” said Harry.

“Back on topic,” said Tracey calmly. “They all get along with each other besides us, it’s like we’re the outcast house and they bond over that.”

Harry sat in silence, aware that the four of them were studying him with curious eyes for at least five minutes. He let them peak their curiosity and the moment Pansy opened her mouth, he began to speak. “Leave the Hufflepuffs to me, I’ll make them see light on out situation.”


	19. Hierarchy and the ‘Puffs

_Old Name_ : Nicolas Flamel

 _New Name_ : Hierarchy and the ‘Puffs

 _Rewritten_ : 24/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry hadn’t exactly lied to the group of Slytherins when he said that he had plans for the Hufflepuff house, as he really did and he planned to put them in motion as soon as he could. He just had to wait for the holidays to end and for the major part of his plan, so all he could do now was hunt down and find any Hufflepuff students and try and convince them that it was in their best interest to forge a study group. He already had his foot in the door with Cedric Diggory, because the two already knew each other, at least according to Diggory.

Of course Pansy helped no one with her constant taunting, which caused the two to spend half their time glaring at each other, daring each other to remark about something and start a whole new argument, much to the enjoyment of the entire Slytherin house.

That was of course why Harry was now sitting in the library, alone, with his books scattered across the bench and a welcoming smile on his face, despite the fact that he would normally hide himself in a corner and scowl and glare at anyone who dared approach today he was doing the opposite and sat in the open, a rare occurrence indeed. It didn’t take long before a Hufflepuff came over towards him, looking rather skittish.

“Excuse me?” said the first-year Hufflepuff quietly, looking like a deer caught in headlights when the green eyes of the Slytherin boy snapped up towards her.

“What?” said Harry with a bitter tone. He watched as the Hufflepuff took a small step backwards and widened her eyes. He rubbed his head and sighed. “Sorry, headache. What do you need? I hope this isn’t your spot, as I rather like it.”

“No, no,” said the Hufflepuff slowly. “I’m Susan Bones. I’m in Hufflepuff, as you can tell,” she let out a nervous laugh and cleared her throat softly. “I was just wondering you could – maybe – uh – help me a little with the Levitation Charm,” she continued the thought and rambled slightly before getting back on track. “I can get it to work, thankfully, just not maintain it like the other students can.”

Harry lent back on the wooden chair and let a small smile grace his lips. It was simply as if fate itself wanted Harry to have the Hufflepuffs on his side and was aiding him the best it could. “I see, I see. May I ask a simple question?” he said and waited for the girl to give a nod. “Why did you ask me and not a Ravenclaw?”

“Professor Sprout suggested that I come to you and ask you,” said Susan. “She generally has good advice about these things and I knew that I could trust her judgement, ignoring all rumours I have heard.”

“Rumours?”

“That you’re not very friendly,” said Susan softly, as if the words would cause her pain. “I mean, you are pretty smart and intelligent and don’t seem to hold that over people. I always see you in here studying and with various books that we won’t be expected to read until at least out second or third year.”

Harry listened as the girl continued to repeat the same thing over and over again, just in a different way. He tuned most of it out, but kept half an ear on her just to make sure he missed nothing new.

“Anyway, the Ravenclaws can be a little snobbish when it comes to things like this and they tend to hold it against you or make you feel small when you get something wrong,” said Susan. “Gryffindors tend to be rather loud and boisterous, at least from what I have seen, especially regarding studying. Slytherins are smart and cunning, and I’ve heard that quite a few of you guys have held top spots in classes. Even if that means I’ll owe you something for it, that doesn’t bother me.”

“Most wouldn’t dare owe something to a Slytherin,” said Harry, his eyebrow slightly lifted.

“As I said,” repeated Susan in a soft voice. “It doesn’t exactly bother me, I need to learn this.”

“Of course, I’d want something, as is custom, but you needn’t worry about it being dark or evil or me sending you to attack everyone – bit of a harmless favour, actually.”

“Oh?”

“You see, Susan – I may call you Susan, yes?”

“Yes,” said Susan happily. “Only if I may call you Harry.”

“Well you see, Susan,” said Harry, picking up from where he left off previously. “I was sitting in the Slytherin common room with Tracey Davis, Pansy Parkinson and two second-year Slytherins who needn’t be mentioned at the present and we came across something odd – yes, odd describes it best – and we instantly decided to think up a way to fix this issue.”

“What’s the issue?” said Susan, confused.

“We were debating the issue, rather quietly, you see, and we figured that Slytherin had no active study groups with any other house,” said Harry. “We were trying to find a worthy house that would allow us to create a study group with them.”

“You mean with us – Hufflepuff?”

“Indeed,” said Harry, smiling. “What better than Hufflepuff? I know there has been some bad blood between our houses, but we ought to fix that, shouldn’t we?”

 “Why us?” said Susan. “Why should we fix years of damage?”

“Who better than first-years? If we can see that there’s issues between the houses then that proves that the issue is larger than we ever thought.”

Susan shot the boy a very, very confused glance, one that would have caused even the most oblivious person to notice it. She didn’t follow the boy’s thought process on why it was a good idea, although, Professor Sprout did state that not many could actually follow the boy’s line of thinking, that he was odd in his own way, and that was the only leaving advice that she was given regarding Harry Potter. “Alright, alright, but I didn’t think that Slytherin wanted to take part with the other houses.”

Harry snorted. “From what I learned throughout the holidays from the very few pure-blooded Slytherins, it’s that our house was dubbed as evil… dark… strange. We were, of course, forced from such things,” he said slowly, his tone light. “All I ask, and it isn’t much, is that you assist me in getting a study group between Slytherin and Hufflepuff going. Only first-years, we needn’t rush for other years.”

“But, what about Slytherins?” said Susan. “Won’t they give you issues?”

“No, they’ll do what I say,” said Harry, leaning back a little. “Now, how about we deal with your spell issue. Pronounce it for me.”

“Wingardium Leviosa!” said Susan softly, not wanting to have Madam Pince charge at her for casting spells in her library. “I thought – I think – Professor Flitwick said it was right, the incantation that is, but it just doesn’t hold.”

“That’s because you’re saying it wrong,” said Harry and then paused, a frown crossing his face. He realized that he sounded just like granger the first time they actually did the spell, when she corrected Weasley. “I mean, the incantation is slightly incorrect, you’re putting way too much emphasis on the _gar_ in fact, I would also pronounce the g a little more in _wing_ , and you’re slightly saying it like _win_ ,” he said quietly. “Wing-GAR-dee-um levi-O-sa.”

“O-okay, I’ll try it now,” said Susan shyly. “Wing-GAR-dee-um levi-O-sa.”

“There you are, Susan, that was much better,” said Harry, his tone of voice filled with praise. “Now levitate this book, and be careful not to break it.”

Susan glanced around, looking for Madam Pince, surely she wouldn’t allow spells to be cast in the library. “What about Madam Pince?”

“Just do it quietly and a bit discreetly and she’ll never know,” said Harry with a wink. “Conceal your wand under your sleeve and don’t levitate the book to high and she’ll think it was just a book in a pile.” He gestured at the book and smirked. “I don’t think that she’d care very much regardless, as long as you don’t use such spells that could harm her books simply beyond levitating them, such as water or fire spells.”

“Right.”

“Hold it afloat, three inches off the tabletop,” said Harry, pulling his wand from his sleeve. “Go on, hold it afloat for two minutes.”

“W-what?” croaked out Susan, looking like she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She paled slightly when she glanced at Harry and noticed his look, she quickly lifted her wand and prepared the spell. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The book hovered off the table steadily. Harry watched in rapt fascination as it bobbed slightly and then straightened out perfectly. He wondered if the girl would be able to hold the book for the entire two minutes without it dropping and creating a ruckus. He hoped she would fail and put into part two of his plan, the knowledge that he could teach her something would be grand for his study club. He watched and thanked Merlin when the book dropped onto the table with a soft thud. “One minute and seventeen seconds, not bad.”

“That’s the longest I’ve ever been able to hold it!” said Susan excitedly as she carefully adjusted the book so it looked like she had been reading it. “I have just one question, if that’s alright?”

“Sure, go ahead,” said Harry softly, slipping a few books into his bag. “I’ll answer it truthfully.”

Susan wasn’t expecting the warmth that was in the Slytherin boy’s tone, she expected hatred and for him to demean her and tell her to forget the question and that she was a fool for asking one. So fa rall the rumours that she had heard about this boy had been false and wrong. “A lot of Hufflepuffs talk about your sorting and your attitude about Hufflepuffs. Of course it’s not very known, but a few know that you despise our house.”

“Rumours.”

“But when I entered the common room, it was you they all talked about.”

“Rumours, I have heard that Hufflepuff is the cause of most, if not all, the rumours around the school.”

Susan laughed nervously. “I guess that’s right, we can be pretty bad with the rumours.”

Harry sat in silence for a while, not sure on how to continue any form of conversation with someone who just admitted to spreading rumours, most likely it was her fault that the rumour about him being a Legilimens got out as far as it did. “As much as this conversation has interested me, I must return to my studying.”

Susan didn’t move.

Harry tilted his head slightly. “I hope you’re on board with the study group idea. I believe, strongly, that this’ll benefit the both of us.”

“Uh – yeah – alright,” stuttered out Susan. “I’ll just go… now, thank you, Harry.”

Harry watched without expression as the girl almost tripped over herself trying to get her belongings into her bag and get out of the library. He did see the smile on her face and was almost startled when she spun around on the spot and looked directly at him. “I’ll owl you shortly, that way we can keep in contact without needing to hunt each other down.”

“Right,” said Susan, a smile on her face. She nodded slightly and turned on the spot. She gently nudged by a Ravenclaw, not wanting to hurt the said person, an apology left her lips instantly as she made for the exit of the library happily.

Harry leant back on the chair with a smile on his face, a genuine smile, his plans now in motion and Slytherin may not be on the bottom of the school for much longer. He didn’t even really need to manipulate Susan Bones into getting what he wanted, just had to display his above average intelligence and try to teach her something. For a while he did wonder why Susan hadn’t gone home with the holidays, but that meant very little when it worked into his favour, he wouldn’t ask or try and become friends, instead he would simply just use her until she had exhausted her use to him.

He stood up and sent Madam Pince a warming smile, which she returned almost instantly, and tucked one book under his arm and began a very slow walk throughout the library, letting his gaze fall on the few people that were actually in there.

The moment he left the library, every thought about Nicolas Flamel assaulted his mind, it was only the fact that he was used to such things happening when he gained a vast amount of knowledge that it didn’t ruin his stride as he stepped down the corridor. He did, however, curse mentally for not searching for the man while he was in there. He cleared his mind as he walked down the staircase, being careful to avoid the mischievous step that would often shift or change texture, causing confusion amongst the students. Oddly enough, if the student did trip it’d morph and catch the student before they would hurt themselves. It fascinated him to no amount, knowing that the castle would prank students, but effectively protect them at the same time. He did need to look into that in some more depth, he vowed to do it a while ago, but in his old age he was clearly getting forgetful.

It only just insulted his mind that today was the day that everyone came back from their holidays and that he needed to go to the Great Hall to wait for Draco. Spinning on the spot, he twisted and walked off towards the Great Hall, hoping that Draco would be back early and not make him wait an hour. He pushed open the large Great Hall doors, which he would complain about until he left the school, and glanced around the room. Only around half the students were actually there, and that was just a guesstimate, sitting around the tables, chatting idly to each other. His eyes landed on Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom and he sneered, wondering what they were currently discussing that’d keep them preoccupied for so long and of course caused them to whisper.

‘ _Maybe, just maybe, they found out about Nicolas Flamel_?’ said Tom in his usual mocking voice.

Harry doubted that. Longbottom and Weasley were useless without Granger.

‘ _Underestimating people will be your downfall, Harry_.’

Harry ignored Tom and snapped his eyes from the Gryffindor table and silently made his way towards the Slytherin table, waiting for his friend.

* * *

Draco, who was huffing, sat down with a thud next to his friend. “You know, I could have sworn that I would have enjoyed France this time, but I didn’t, like always,” he said, letting out another sigh for good measure. “I found nothing on you-know-what, and before you even ask, I did actually look. Mother wanted me to go look at Beauxbatons, but we simply didn’t have the time and couldn’t go. She did tell me that there was a large fountain, unlike anything we’ve ever seen, on the grounds somewhere, and I really wanted to see it. Mother said it was built after someone who helped fund Beauxbatons.”

“Fantastic!” breathed Harry, looking excited. “I have heard about that fountain. I heard, in passing, that it was modelled after someone who donated a large sum of Galleons, or France’s equivalent of that to the school, allowing the school to build many new parts and get more students. The statue is of a female, I think her name was Penelope – no, that’s not right – Pennell – nope – uh – Perenelle… something like that anyway, I cannot remember her surname. She apparently attended the school with her husband and became famous. It’s been awhile since I’ve touched anything regarding Beauxbatons, as I mostly focus on Durmstrang or Hogwarts now.”

“I knew I’d come home to a history lesson.”

“Hush, Draco, what’d you buy in France? I heard they have nice fashion.”

“Oh yes,” said Draco, looking happy with the current direction of the conversation. “Mother and I scoured each shop almost clean, coming home with an entire wardrobe of the latest fashions and trends among wizards. Such perfect and high-quality silk, Merlin!” He continued explaining everything he saw in France, the clothing, the attraction and all that. The streets, the people and the Muggles, who were oblivious as always. He skirted around the conflict between him and a Veela, but he refused to mention that and just simply said that his father said it was pretty bad. “I believe that you’ve at least found something on You-Know-Who – not _him_ , the other one – argh.”

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Nah, I found nothing on him, being one hundred percent honest. I didn’t even really look for him while you were gone. I was busy and had no time.”

“Busy? No time?” said Draco in a surprised tone of voice. “What if the Golden Trio have already found out about him and we’re doing nothing but sitting here arguing about it? It’s clearly something, something powerful and we must know what it is.”

“Of course,” said Harry in a silky tone. “Those two?” he gestured towards Weasley and Longbottom. “Found nothing as they’re banned from the library for another week.”

Draco sighed. “Please tell me that you actually kept a close eye on them and what they were doing.”

Harry gave his friend a very familiar look, one that reminded everyone of a child who broke something and was acting innocent about it. “Nope.”

Draco gaped slightly before his mouth slammed shut, his eyes narrowing and inspecting Harry with extreme curiosity. “So tell me what you did all holidays? I know you’re not the type to sit around and twiddle your thumbs when you could be learning.”

“I was learning,” said Harry. “When have I ever just sat around, doing nothing? Never, that’s when. I have been forming some alliances, it’s good to learn things about our house and then attempt to fix them.”

“What’d you learn, Harry?”

“That Slytherin has no alliances with other houses while Gryffindor has two active ones,” said Harry, his lips curled in disgust. “Honestly, the fact that we’re in no study groups is just pathetic. What happened to the cunning and ambition we have? At the current we’re more like the antisocial house. It’s not just us first-years without a study group, no higher years have any either. You know when my father mentioned about house unity and how it was important? It was achieved, achieved with a common goal, that common goal was hating or ignoring the Slytherin house.”

Draco gave a gesture that told Harry to be quiet. “You’re wrong, Harry. Slytherin wanted to be segregated, we wanted to be alone. We segregated ourselves from the other houses centuries ago!” he paused and evaluated his friend’s facial expression, hoping that he didn’t offend him by telling him that he was wrong. “While recently it was renamed as a common goal by the other houses, it was started centuries ago by us, not wanting to associate with filth or people below us.”

“And we won’t be associating with those beneath us,” said Harry in a bored tone of voice. His eyes flashed with happiness, much like a child who just found a large stash of candy. “Those beneath us are the Gryffindors and we won’t be having a study group with them.”

“I see.”

“While you were shopping in France, I was trying to get Hufflepuffs on our side.”

“Hufflepuffs?” said Draco, holding in the laughter. “Really, Hufflepuffs?”

“Loyalty isn’t something that you should scoff at, Draco,” said Harry in a calm tone of voice. “I spoke with Susan Bones recently, as I knew the name was familiar. My father, he speaks to Amelia Bones at the Ministry and often comes home and talks about her. You see, Amelia Bones is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which isn’t something that you should really scowl or such at. Lucius always did say that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is often used as a stepping stone to the Ministership.”

“But why Hufflepuffs?” said Draco, not exactly caring about politics and positions in the Ministry when this issue was about the school.

“I’m not sure how to put this into words, Draco, and that’s saying something about how difficult it is to explain,” said Harry, gently massaging his temples. “The school, much like us, has its own hierarchy chart that people tend to follow without question. That chart contains only four names, and I needn’t explain what they are. Currently Slytherin is on the bottom, by a large amount. Gryffindor is at the top, which is disgusting, and Ravenclaw is in second, which leaves third for Hufflepuff.” He gestured to the door with a smirk. “Now, tell me why I went for the Hufflepuff house instead of the Ravenclaw house, who are higher up in the hierarchy chart than Hufflepuff.”

“Honestly?” said Draco, his expression blank. “I have no idea, Harry. You’re the one that was here, planning to take over the school and not looking for you-know-what or information about you-know-who. You’re planning something, aren’t you? You’re planning to take over the school, you plan to conquer it. Surely not in your first year? Why not pan it out over the entire seven years? That way you can do more than just study.”

“Of course I want to do more than just study, hence why I’m doing this now,” said Harry. “Did you know what else I learned while you were off shopping in France? I learned that Professor Snape will apparently assign us a detention if we’re caught talking to other houses. If we so much as speak to a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, we’ll get detention. We must change that as soon as possible.”

‘ _He doesn’t follow you or your thought process_ ,’ said Tom in a taunting manner. ‘ _Go back to discussing the hierarchy stuff. He’ll understand that_.’

“If we go to the Ravenclaws first, who’ll go to the Hufflepuffs?” said Harry, continuing on from the old topic. “Ravenclaws admire knowledge, we easily have that.”

Draco thought on it for a moment, debating on what Harry was saying how it could affect the house. “So, we get the Hufflepuffs first, who are just above us, and win them over and they’ll go and talk to the Ravenclaws?”

“Yes.”

“As for your comment about Professor Snape, it was explained completely when the year began, I assume you didn’t listen and glared instead.”

“Whatever,” said Harry, shrugging off the sheer accusation of him glaring. “I cannot do this alone, as painful as that is to admit. I have a foot in the door, but it won’t hold for long.”

“A foot in the what?” asked Draco, confused and not understanding the reference at all. “Why would you put your foot in the door and how would that help?”

“Muggle reference. It essentially just means getting a person to agree to a large request by first setting them up by having that person agree to a modest request. Essentially, the more a subject goes along with small requests or commitments, the more likely that subject is to continue in a desired direction of attitude or behavioural change and feel obligated to go along with larger requests,” explained Harry, completely ignoring the still confused look on Draco’s face. “It’s an expression that will get me places, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Alright, I guess it makes some sense after thinking about it,” muttered Draco and continued to walk alongside Harry, silently debating about what would happen during the rest of this year, after all it was already January and the year only had a few months left, oh how quickly it went. “I was serious before, what are we going to do if you somehow take over the school in your first year, the last six will be boring, I mean, what will we do? It’s not like every year something will be hidden on the third-floor corridor.”

“We go to school with the Boy Who Lived,” said Harry with a shrug. “I honestly doubt our time here will be boring, I’m sure Longbottom will do something stupid each year.”

* * *

It had been a few weeks since the students returned and lessons slowly began again, causing most to groan about it. The days merged into nights, which merged into mornings and eventually countless days went by and students did their older routines. Harry on the other hand was struggling to forget that blasted mirror and the words that Dumbledore had used to describe it.

_“Very good, Mr. Potter, I did not see it that way,” replied Dumbledore with a grandfatherly smile. “The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.”_

It was the part that stated that he shouldn’t go looking for it, and if he did run across it once more he should be prepared that startled him to most. Was this typical Dumbledore behaviour or simply a warning? He was certain that he would be seeing that mirror once more. If not because of how pulling it seemed to be, but because it promised him something. It was hard to not be curious about it when Tom remained silent about it, as if he had already known what it was and what it did and this angered him to no amount, a she hated not knowing.

He sighed and tried his hardest to keep the thoughts about that cursed mirror from entering his mind. The moment that mirror came alive in his mind, agitation would join it. It wasn’t that he hated his parents, but his greatest desire couldn’t be them. He could never be so Hufflepuff that his greatest desire would be his parents and not ruling the world, which he deserved. If Longbottom ever said anything about it, or told anyone, he would regret it.

He hadn’t touched the invisibility cloak since that night, it sat discarded at the bottom of his trunk, sitting on top of the Dark Arts books that he had received from someone who called themselves T. M. Riddle. He was certain that it was an alias, or even an anagram, if he had to go out on a limb, as that seemed like something someone would do. A loud snore broke across the room and he jumped slightly, of course it was when he was fiddling with his trunk that contained Dark Arts that something like that would happen.

The night slowly morphed into morning, which in turn morphed into early afternoon. After a full day of tedious lessons and dealing with an irate Professor Snape, who appeared to be in a rather foul mood for most of the day, glaring at everyone, even his Slytherins, who appeared to be just as confused as the Gryffindors. It didn’t help matters with the fact that the weather had decided to match the Potion Master’s mood and become a quick storm, pouring water onto the castle at an almost alarming rate.

The rain continued to slam harshly against the stained-glass of the castle harshly, causing a few students to glance up with a curious expression. A howl of wind caused a fair amount of corridors to fill with droplets of water and even some leaves that couldn’t stay onto their respective trees. It hadn’t even been raining for five hours and people were already sniffing colds away. Perhaps that explained Professor Snape’s foul mood, having to brew hundreds of potions that would help fix the students and their awful colds.

The snow from Christmas had vanished long ago and was promptly replaced with damp grass and puddles that could rival a large pond. Knee-deep puddles and mud were common along the dampened path, especially around the Quidditch pitch. Most students had the common sense to avoid them, and not jump in them like children, even if they were technically children. Two students, however, lacked this and displayed awful decorum. Instead, the two students, the Weasley Twins, decided that they would have a mud fight.

Harry sat in the unofficial Slytherin stand just across from the Quidditch field, however he was in earshot range and could hear what was being said, only faintly.

“Will you stop messing around!” yelled Wood at the two twins. “That’s exactly the sort of thing that’ll lose us the match! Professor Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!”

That perked Harry’s attention, Professor Snape was referring? Interesting.

One of the Weasley Twins, Fred, paused and got hit in the side of the face with a mud ball. He glared at his twin, who was snickering as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. “Snape’s referring?” he said, turning to face the Quidditch Captain. He spit out trace amounts of mud from his mouth. “When’s he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He’s not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin.”

“Overtake?” said George. “We’re bloody well behind them.”

Harry couldn’t hear much else of the Gryffindor Team’s Quidditch tactics, the howling of the wind got much worse and he silently thanked Salazar that the stands were covered with Impervious Charms, stopping the water from hitting him and his book. He was amazed that none of them had seen him yet, not that the rain would help them, especially as it poured down the stand like a waterfall. He watched as Neville Longbottom shuddered slightly, holding his broom loosely in his fingers. He hoped the idiotic would get the fly or something and have to suffer because of it.

He followed Longbottom silently, waiting for the boy to step into the entrance to the school. He smirked and hurried to catch up, trying to be silent as he jogged across the flooring, a trail of water behind him. “Hey, Longbottom,” he said somewhat cruelly, causing the said boy to spin around on the spot, only to be hit in the chest with a spell.


	20. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

_Old Name_ : Nicolas Flamel

 _New Name_ : Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

 _Rewritten_ : 26/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Neville fell through the Fat Lady’s portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, after bunny hopping up each stair in the castle. His robes were slightly damp from being out in the rain and he had a slight cut on his wrist. He let out a sigh as he saw Hermione and Ron playing what appeared to be chess. He was somewhat thankful when no one laughed and sent him a concerned look.

Hermione dashed up and frowned at what appeared to be the Leg-Locker Curse, she instantly performed the counter-curse and watched as Neville’s legs sprang apart and he fell over. “What happened?” she asked as the boy got to his feet, slightly trembling.

“Harr – Potter,” said Neville sadly. “He must’ve followed me from Gryffindor’s Quidditch practice and hit me with the spell after I left and was walking back here. He called my name and I turned to face him, he hit me with the spell.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Jumping up each step like a bunny and after Quidditch practice tired him out. “He told me to tell you that you’re next, Ron.”

“Go to Professor McGonagall!” Hermione urged Neville. “Report him!”

Neville shook his head and sat down on the sofa. “I don’t want any more trouble, Harr – Potter isn’t one to hold grudges – well he does – but never against me.”

“You’ve got to stand up against him, Nev,” said Ron, joining his best friend on the sofa. “He’s used to getting away with everything! We’ve discussed this before. If you just lay down and let him walk over you, he will.”

Hermione sent Neville a look as she watched Ronald dig around in his pockets for Merlin knows what. “I believe you’d be better off going to Professor McGonagall.”

“Potter only picks on you because he knows that you’ll do nothing about it,” said Ron. “Ever since I hit him –”

“You did what?” said Hermione in a slightly distraught sounding tone of voice.

“I – uh – I hit Potter, he said something bad and he deserved it.”

“That’s why you were banned from the library for two weeks,” said Hermione with a sniff. “That did nothing but gain him the favour from Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey.”

“Regardless, he’s left me alone now, just glares.”

Neville gave a forced smile and lent back in the chair. “There’s no need to tell me that I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Harr – Potter has done enough of that over the years.”

“You’re worth twelve of Potter, mate,” said Ron instantly, the first thing that came to mind was that. “The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Potter? In stinking Slytherin.”

Neville’s lips twitched in a weak smile and he reached into his robes, pulling out a chocolate frog. “Thanks, Ron… I’ll think I’ll have this… then go to bed or something.” He ate the frog and glanced at the card. “Dumbledore again, he was the first one I ever –” he stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione. “I’ve found him!” he whispered. “I’ve found Flamel! I told you I’d read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here – listen to this: _Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel_.”

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn’t looked so excited since they’d got back the marks for their very first piece of homework. “Come on, I know where to find more information!”

Neville and Ron followed Hermione towards the library, which both boys knew it would be there. Of course someone else had the book that was on alchemy however he or she hadn’t loaned it out and may be willing to share the book if they were asked nicely.

“Who do you think has it?” whispered Hermione towards Neville and Ron. “It must be a seventh-year studying to become an alchemist.”

“What does it look like?” questioned Ron, glancing around at the tables. “That way we can look for it without asking everyone.”

“It should be very old and rather enormous, the cover will be black and have an alchemy symbol on the cover.” Hermione explained and glanced around the library. She was about to say something when Ron groaned about something, she gave him a curious glance. “What?”

“Potter is over there! I swear he reads more than you,” said Ron and rubbed the side of his face. “I swear he lives in the library.”

Hermione gave him a look and huffed. “That’s not a bad thing, maybe we can ask him if he knows who has it.”

“I’d rather not,” said Ron and Neville at the same time.

“We don’t need him,” said Neville afterwards. “We can find it ourselves.”

A look crossed Hermione’s face. “You’re right, he may try and claim it as a favour or something else ridiculous.”

Neville watched Hermione leave with a curious expression on his face.

Harry gave the Golden Trio an amused expression which they all missed, sadly. He shifted the book into view, hoping one of them would spot it and then he could deny them the book they were after for some reason. He did wonder why they wanted a book on alchemy, after all, he had only picked it up by mistake, he was about to put it back when he heard that they were after it, he decided not to. He continued to watch as the trio kept looking for the book he had, all three of them refused to ask him about the book, of course that would make it way too easy for him.

“I have no idea where it could be ‘Mione,” said Ron with a shrug. “Maybe it was taken out or Madam Pince was wrong?”

“No, she wouldn’t lead us to the wrong spot, it’s definitely still in the library,” said Hermione with a slight sigh. “We need to find that a book, I knew I should have checked it out before the holidays for some light reading.” She glanced once more and saw the book she needed sitting on the table in front of the boy. “There it is! Potter had it the entire time.”

“You don’t think he knows about Flamel, do you?”

“Why do we have to speak to him, why does he have it?”

“Be quiet,” whispered Hermione towards Ron and Neville. “Hello, we’re looking for an alchemy book, you wouldn’t happen to have one would you?”

“No,” said Harry instantly, not even bothering to look up. “I don’t.”

Silence lapsed over the small group. Hermione was the first to recover. “But I assumed –”

“Yes you do, Potter,” growled Ron, cutting off Hermione. “It’s right there! We can see it!”

“Oh, so it is,” said Harry. “You know what? I was just about to put that back, but now that you mention it, I think I may read it.” He closed the book that he wasn’t reading and slid the large alchemy book over towards himself and propped it open. “I see that you’ve finally stopped tutoring Weasley on the basics of the English language, Longbottom, not that I blame you. Are you asking Granger now, Weasley? Odd isn’t it? The fact that you, of all people, wish to study Alchemy. It’s a hard subject, you know, you should start with fairy tales, I’m sure that Longbottom can tell you one.”

Ron instantly clenched his hands into fists, his face turned an ugly shade of red, almost purple, with all the range and anger that was bubbling inside of him. “Shut it, Potter.”

“Touchy,” said Harry, flipping a few pages.

Hermione sent Ron a glare and turned back to Harry. “No, but we need that book, could we borrow it for maybe a few moments?”

“So this is what you wanted to be when you grew up, Weasley, an alchemist?” mocked Harry. “If I knew you were going to suggest that to the headmaster I would have remained and listened. As you’re aware a few years as an alchemist and you could afford something better than that shack you live in.” He saw Ron tense slightly and smirked at him. “Perhaps we could come to a deal, as I am not yet finished with the book, you could read it here with me.”

Hermione shared a look with Neville and Ron, who were both shaking their heads with such force she was amazed they didn’t have a headache already. “It’s private –”

“You’re looking for Nicolas Flamel,” said Harry and ignored the gasp from Granger. “What a lucky guess, but your reaction proves my guess correct.” Really it was in a sense, he had no idea he was in this book, he just assumed. “Sit down and let’s read it, or you can wait the three months until I return the book.”

“Three months?” said Hermione in a high-pitched tone of voice. “The limit is two weeks!”

“For you Gryffindors it is, but Professor Snape would allow me an extension with the book for a month, especially regarding career choices, such as Alchemy. I have the grades, Granger, to become an alchemist,” said Harry as he flicked through the pages. “Add another month from Professor Quirrell, for the same exact reason and another from Professor McGonagall, who has grown rather fond of me over these past few months.”

“You cannot do that, others need this book!” whispered Hermione towards the Slytherin. “Professor Dumbledore will back us up if we need it.”

“Weren’t you trying to keep this a secret?”

“Well –”

“Regardless, he’ll favour me over you lot, even with Longbottom begging for the book.”

Hermione huffed and sat down across from Harry. “Fine!” she gestured for Neville and Ron to sit as well. “What’s in the book doesn’t leave this table, please Harry don’t ruin this for us.”

“We’re not on friendly terms, Granger, don’t call me by my first name,” said Harry, feeling agitated that she dared call him such a name after wasting his time. “I won’t _speak_ to anyone about what’s in this book, you have my word.”

Hermione nodded towards the boy and gently slipped the book from his grasp. “Be quiet!” she hissed at Neville and Ron, mainly Ron, who had started bickering about it. She started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself. At last she found what she was looking for. “I knew it! I knew it!”

“Are we allowed to speak yet?” said Ron, his tone quiet.

Hermione ignored Ron. “Nicolas Flamel, is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone!” She frowned when neither Neville nor Ron made any kind of sound about the mysterious item. Biting the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from scolding the two boys for not reading. She had, however, noticed that Harry Potter’s eyes lit up the moment she said the word, as if he suddenly, as if he had just came across his greatest desire.

“The what?” said Neville and Ron in complete unison.

“The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal,” said Harry as if he had been reading directly from the book. He paused and wondered why he suddenly knew everything that he had read before about Nicolas Flamel, he had read about the man in one of his more boring nights studying.

“There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera-lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle, who is six hundred and fifty-eight,” said Hermione, finishing for Harry Potter.

Ron gave Neville and Hermione a look. “The dog must be guarding Flamel’s Philosopher’s Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore –”

“Professor Dumbledore,” corrected Harry, of course he should have stayed quiet to keep listening. Tormenting Weasley was worth it though.

“– to keep it safe for him, because they’re friends and he knew someone was after it. That’s why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!” said Ron, taking a deep breath. “A stone that makes gold and stops you ever dying! No wonder Snape’s after it! Anyone would want it.”

“Professor Snape,” said Harry, correcting the red-headed boy once more, which he took great pleasure in. He ignored the approving look that Granger sent him. “But your accusation is clearly wrong. I can assure you that Professor Snape isn’t after whatever that dog is guarding.”

“Why are we even talking about this while he’s here? He could go straight to Snape and tell him about this!”

“Whatever, Weasley,” said Harry and then turned towards Granger, his hand snaking towards the book. “I am going to check this one out, you’ve learned what you’ve needed and I’m sure you no longer have a need for this little boob, right? Of course not. Good luck in your match tomorrow, Longbottom.”

* * *

Harry, Draco, Theodore and Rosier sat behind the Gryffindors in the Gryffindor stand, not that it could be called that as there seemed to be all houses everywhere. The entire school had turned up for the event, even the headmaster, who took time out of his extremely long and tiring schedule to watch the Quidditch match.

For once the weather was actually clear and the blue sky hadn’t a cloud in the sky at all, which caused some to mutter about it almost aimlessly.

“Now, don’t forget, it’s Locomotor Mortis,” whispered Hermione, her eyes narrowed. “You’re the only person who hasn’t got it correct yet.”

“I know,” said Ron, glancing at the girl with an annoyed expression. “Don’t nag.” He turned back to the game with a smile on his face. “I’ve honestly never seen Snape look so mean. Look – they’re off. Ouch!”

“Sorry, Weasley,” said Harry with a blank expression. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Wonder how long Longbottom’s going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?” said Draco, kicking the back of Ron’s seat.

“Yeah, Weasley, you could bet your shack for it.”

Ron didn’t answer them. He watched as Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him.

Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Neville, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

“You know, I think I know how people are chosen for the Gryffindor Quidditch team,” said Draco loudly a few minutes later. He smirked as Professor Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty. “The Captain, Wood, gives the position to those that he feels sorry for. See, there’s Longbottom, who’s got no parents, then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money – you should be on the team, Granger, you’ve got no friends.”

Hermione went bright red, she spun around on the spot, her bushy hair flicking around. “Really, Malfoy, your only friends are Crabbe and Goyle.”

Harry, Draco and Rosier all burst out in laughter. Draco cleared his throat and smirked. “Granger, if friends were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something,” he muttered behind her, flicking her bushy hair with his wand.

Ron’s nerves were already stretched to breaking point with anxiety about Neville. “I’m warning you, Malfoy – one more word –”

“Ron!” bellowed Hermione, interrupting whatever he was going to say. “Neville!”

“What? Where?” Ron said while glancing around the field for his friend. He watched as Neville had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Neville streaked towards the ground like a bullet.

“You’re in luck, Weasley, Longbottom’s obviously spotted some money on the ground!” said Harry as he watched Longbottom dive towards the ground. “You won’t have to rely on Granger for spelling lessons soon, you’ll be able to afford some new books.”

Ron spun around, pulling his wand out. “Shut up, Potter!”

“Calm down, Weasley,” sneered Harry. “You don’t know any spells that you could curse me with, so tuck away your wand like a good boy.”

“Your dad taught me a few a while back,” said Ron, grinning. “Let’s see how you like this!”

Harry backhanded Weasley’s wand away from his chest and hit it towards Granger. Weasley was an incompetent wizard, of course he knew no decent spells. If his father did teach Weasley anything, it’d be prank spells, which didn’t bother him, but he didn’t want to be hit by a spell from Weasley, period.

Ron didn’t expect his wand to be hit away physically, so when it slipped from his grip and flew off the stands and towards the ground he was rather shocked. He watched as his wand bounced on the ground a few times before stopping completely.

“You better go collect your wand, Weasley,” said Harry mockingly. “You’ll need to give that to your kids when they attend school, wouldn’t want to dig into your family’s Galleons, not that you have any.”

Ron didn’t get far before he saw Neville dive down towards his wand and pick it up. “What are you doing, Neville? Catch the Snitch!” he bellowed at his friend. “I can get my wand anytime! We have to beat Hufflepuff!”

“Next time you point your wand at me, Weasley, I’ll throw you off the stands without hesitation,” muttered Harry darkly. “Do not pick fights with those that are better than you.”

“You’re not better than me, Potter, or anyone else,” said Ron, tucking away his wand. “With how you speak, you may as well change your name to Malfoy, because that’s how you act! You’re a disgrace to your father.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Weasley, please do speak it,” said Harry. “It’s the least I can do to hop that you get a decent sleep in that shack you live in.”

“Come on, Neville!” shouted Hermione, leaping on to her seat to watch as Neville sped straight at Professor Snape – she didn’t even notice Potter and Ron fighting directly behind her.

Up in the air, Professor Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches – next second, Neville had pulled out of the dive, his face with a defeated expression. Professor Snape’s lips turned into a smile when he looked at the Hufflepuff Seeker and realized that Hufflepuff had caught the Snitch.

The stands erupted with cheers for the Hufflepuff team, mainly by the Slytherins who would now win the cup without an issue from Gryffindor.

“Longbottom should just give up, that’s two wins he’s cost Gryffindor now,” said Harry and ignored all the glares he got from the Gryffindors. “I mean he actually retrieved Weasleys wand instead of chasing the Snitch.”

“Would you be quiet?” spat Parvati Patil. “What even are you doing here?”

“Mind your own business, Patil. Clearly no one was speaking to you,” snapped Harry, turning to the group of Slytherins. “Come on, Draco, Theo, Rosie.”

* * *

Harry lay on his bed in the dungeons, the water splashing harshly against the glass that allowed some natural light into the first-year boys’ dormitory, despite the fact he had been in this castle for about four months already, he was still rather concerned if the glass would break and that water would flood the dungeons, after all, magic can only do so much. He had the book on Nicolas Flamel opened on his lap and he used the little natural light in the room to read the book. He could be immortal if he got that stone, nothing could stop him from taking over the Ministry if he was immortal. He almost regret telling Draco that he had found out what that dog is guarding.

He watched as the sun slowly rose, the light slowly brightened in the room allowing for his reading to become easier and less straining on his eyes. He flipped through the book at a rapid rate, already knowing most of the information already in the book, but actively looking for more about the Philosopher’s Stone. He realized that the so called three-headed dog wouldn’t be all that was defending the stone, in fact there was most likely traps by each professor guarding it or something of the likes.

He began to run though what each professor would have added to help guard the stone, he almost instantly knew that Professor Snape would have a poison or something regarding potions, Professor Quirrell would most likely have a dark creature of some sort but that was as far as he got with it, not understanding what any other teacher could use. He felt a headache coming along and constantly stopped thinking about it, he would let the Gryffindors deal with it, and after all, they were all informed about the stone and then follow them down and let them do all the work like he had planned for months already.

Hours past and he made his way to the library, it was the perfect way to spend his free time today. He had seen a few books yesterday that he wanted to read and the limit for taking out books was about ten, which he had twelve, even with his charm he couldn’t persuade Madam Pince to let him take out anymore, although he was glad when he learned that the limit increased by one each year. He spotted the fame Golden Trio in there and he decided to do some eavesdropping while he searched for a book, that just so happened to be near them.

“Hermione, the exams are ages away,” groaned Ron as he shifted around one the books that was sitting open in front of him.

“Ten weeks! That’s not ages, that’s like a second to Nicolas Flamel,” muttered Hermione quietly, not wanting to be too loud in the quiet library.

“But we’re not six hundred years old,” Said Ron with a lifted eyebrow and a smug looking expression on his face. “Anyway, what are you revising for? You already know it all.”

“What am I revising for? Are you mad? You realise we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They’re very important, I should have started studying a month ago… I don’t know what’s got into me!” said Hermione as she picked up a copy of potions that held information on twelve uses of dragon’s blood, which wasn’t even covered this year.

Harry, of course, had already studied up to the exam standards and was apparently studying at a third-year level, which made him rather smug. He glanced at Neville who seemed to be yawning and moaning about something, a book slightly open and a quill in his hand, his slightly chubby fingers pressed somewhat tightly around the quill.

“I’ll never remember this,” burst out Ron, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window.

Neville, who was looking up Dittany in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , didn’t look up until he heard loud footsteps which most likely belonged to none other than Hagrid. He lifted his head and glanced at the half-giant. “Hello, Hagrid, what are you doing in the library?”

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat. “Jus’ lookin’,” he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. “An’ what’re you lot up ter?” He looked suddenly suspicious. “Yer not still lookin’ fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?”

“Oh, we found out who he is ages ago,” said Ron with a half shrug. “And we know what that dog’s guarding, it’s a Philosopher’s St –”

“Shhhh!” said Hagrid, looking around quickly to see if anyone was listening. “Don’ go shoutin’ about it, what’s the matter with yeh?”

“There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact,” said Neville as he closed the book that he was reading. “It’s about what’s guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy –”

“SHHHH!” said Hagrid again, not bothering to look around anymore. “Listen – come an’ see me later, I’m not promisin’ I’ll tell yeh anythin’, mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it in here, students aren’ s’pposed ter know. They’ll think I’ve told yeh –”

Harry shifted past the oaf and stood in front of the Golden Trio, he spared the oaf a glance that told him to get lost, which of course he didn’t. “I would like some privacy, if you don’t mind,” he said and waited again, slightly tapping his foot. “That generally means you leave.”

“See you later, Hagrid,” said Neville, watching the large man shuffle off. “What do you want, Harry?”

“Me? Nothing, I just wanted him out of the library,” said Harry with a smirk. “He was so loud and he was simply distracting me, so I made him leave.”

“That’s awfully rude of you,” said Hermione.

“What the oaf is even doing in a library is beyond me,” muttered Harry as he dragged his index finger over the spines of various books. “With the way he butchers the English language, you wouldn’t think he would be able to read a book, let alone be in the library – oh, that’s it, you lot are teaching him to read also? How nice of you.”

Neville placed his head into his hands and sighed. “Honestly Harry, do you have to be so –”

“Why was he even reading about dragons?” said Harry, interrupting Neville. “If it wasn’t enough that he has a three-headed dog in the actual school, he wishes to add a dragon? Salazar aid us. What’s next, a giant spider called tickles?”

“So that’s what he was hiding behind his back!” said Hermione with a gasp. “I was curious on how he kept his hands behind his back like it was a secret, I thought it was about the stone.”

“I’m going to see what section he was in, maybe he left some books out,” said Ron and instantly took the chance to stop reading and studying for a few minutes. “Dragons!” he whispered as he returned a few minutes later. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_ ; _From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide_.”

“I honestly just said that he had books on dragons.”

“Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him,” said Neville.

“But it’s against our laws, dragon-breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It’s hard to stop Muggles noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden – anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.”

“But there aren’t wild dragons in Britain?” asked Neville, ignoring the scoff from Harry, who was standing near them, flicking through a book.

“Of course there are, Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our lot have to keep putting spells on Muggles who’ve spotted them, to make them forget.”

“So what on earth’s Hagrid up to?” asked Hermione curiously. “Why is he studying dragons?”

“Judging by how he acts usually, I’m going to suggest that he has a dragon’s egg and is now attempting to hatch one,” said Harry while flicking through a book. “He invited you to his hut, I want in.”

The three Gryffindors shared a look and then each gave the Slytherin a knowing look. “I’m sorry, but why do you want to come and see whatever Hagrid has? You don’t even like him!” said Hermione with a huff, not sure if her argument would hold against the Slytherin boy. “I can already see that you plan to use this against him and get him fired or something!”

Harry carefully looked at Granger, keeping his face and void of any emotions despite how much he could feel his lip twitching. Honestly, he didn’t even think about getting the oaf fired for raising a dragon, he really just wanted to see the man raise a dragon in a wooden hut. He watched the Golden Trio carefully, his green eyes blinking every now and then as he studied the posture and expressions on their faces. “No, I just want to see a dragon’s egg, of course that is if he even has one,” he said calmly and turned around. “Well, are you coming or not?”

Ron moaned about something and glared at Potter. “But –”

“Of course, I could just go straight to the headmaster right now,” interrupted Harry and inspected his nails slowly. “I’m sure that will get me a bit of favour, just imagine the headlines in the Daily Prophet: _Harry Potter saves a wooden hut from burning down_ or _Harry Potter the saviour._ They both have a nice ring to them, don’t they?”

“Not really,” said Neville at the same time as Ron. The two shared a look and laughed and then cleared their throats. “Look, Harr – Potter, if you want to come with us, you can, but if you say anything rude at all to Hagrid – or us – then you can just… leave.”

Harry rolled his eyes and placed a single finger against his temple, he gave a slight nod and then smiled. “Of course. What fair terms. I’ll hold my tongue, but if we’re caught then I’m blaming you three in an instant. The three Gryffindors taking advantage of a lone Slytherin, it’s so common that no professor will bat an eye about it.”

* * *

Harry walked towards the oaf’s hut, his shoes crunching on the slightly loose gravel path that looked like it had never once been tended to in the entire time that the castle had been around, actually he wasn’t even sure if it was meant to be gravelled or if it was just random bits of rock that formed a somewhat path. He realized that a few students were still walking around, and some coming from the Quidditch pitch, he realized that it must have been Ravenclaw’s practice session, he kept his chin up and continued walking, slightly weaving around people, not wanting to get slammed over due to his small size and the fact one of them was about three of him in body mass.

He paused at the door to the oaf’s hut and dug in his mind for the half-giant’s name, it was on the tip of his tongue, and he just couldn’t remember it. Giving up, he just pressed a soft knock to the door and waited for the said half-giant to come and open it, of course while he waited for what seemed like an eternity he wondered if the door would be opened for him or not, it was no secret that the half-giant had a slight dislike for Slytherin students. He watched as the door was swung open with some heavy force and the said man in question was standing there holding a teapot, it was rather comical.

“There you are,” said Hagrid and gestured for the boy to step into his home. “Glad yeh could make it. Of course ‘Mione, Ron and Neville are all promised me that yeh wouldn’t tell on me now.”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t gain anything from telling on your for raising a – what is it again?” said Harry as innocently as he possibly could. “It would seem as if I have forgotten.” He stepped into the hut and was assaulted by the severe and harsh heat that filled the seemingly small hut as it rushed out the now open door, merging with the slightly cool air from that evening.

“Well come in, don’t jus’ stand there,” said Hagrid while he shut the door behind him.

The first thing Harry did was throw a mild cleaning spell that he saw his father use while he was rushing to clean up before mother came home, after seeing it enough times, you practically learn it. He was aware that only one person in the room saw it, the only smart person in the room, Hermione Granger, who gave him a curious look and then seemed to give a nervous look at the chair she was sitting around.

“So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin’?” asked Hagrid happily, cutting off both Harry’s and Hermione’s almost heated glares as they looked at the chairs, inspecting them for dirt and such other things. He turned to Neville who seemed to be sitting rather stilled.

“Yes... we – Ron, Hermione and I – were wondering if you could tell us what’s guarding the Philosopher’s Stone apart from Fluffy,” said Neville with a slight smile, he missed the glare he received from Harry.

Hagrid frowned. “O’ course I can’t. Number one, I don’ know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh if I could. That Stone’s here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts – I s’ppose yeh’ve worked that out an’ all? Beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy.”

Harry sat back, happy with being somewhat ignored by everyone in the room, even Granger quit giving him looks and focused her entire attention on Hagrid. He wondered how Longbottom could be so careless to just come out with the whole talk about the stone, what next, they’ll try and flatter the half-giant into giving them information?

“Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here,” said Hermione with a slightly forced smile, her tone warm and filled with pure flattery. “We only wondered who had done the guarding, really. We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.” She finally stopped with the flattery and inwardly smiled to herself when she saw Hagrid’s beard slightly twitch at her words.

Hagrid’s chest swelled at the last words that were spoken. “Well, I don’ s’pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that… let’s see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o’ the teachers did enchantments… Professor Sprout – Professor Flitwick – Professor McGonagall,” he ticked them off on his fingers. “Professor Quirrell – an’ Dumbledore himself did somethin’, o’ course. Hang on, I’ve forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape.”

Ron paled slightly, and Neville seemed to lose all willpower to stay quiet. “Snape?” he burst out, ignoring the Hermione’s face about not using his proper title.

Professor Snape!” said Harry with complete disdain. “And of course Professor Snape would be helping the headmaster with such a task. He’s highly talented, after all, not many professors in this school could even come close to the level of skill that he has at potions. No one alive, except the headmaster, could even hope to beat Professor Snape in a duel.”

“That isn’t helping your or his case.”

“Professor would gain nothing by stealing that stone, he would only lose things,” said Harry. “He’s the youngest Potions Master in Europe, a very rare profession at that. He makes enough money as it is.”

“Yeah – yer not still on abou’ that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he’s not about ter steal it,” said Hagrid, sending the Slytherin a slight nod of appreciation, but he knew that the boy didn’t see it.

Neville knew that Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything – except, it seemed, Quirrell’s spell and how to get past Fluffy. “You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you, Hagrid?” he said somewhat nervously, hoping what he said was true. “And you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?”

“Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore,” said Hagrid proudly, picking up a teapot and filling his own glass he gave the three Gryffindors a smile.

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” muttered Neville to Ron and then tugged at his robe collar. “Hagrid, can we have a window open? I’m boiling.”

“Can’t, Neville, sorry,” said Hagrid sadly and glanced towards the roaring fire, he wasn’t aware that his gaze was followed by the four children in the room until it was too late.

“Hagrid – what’s that?” asked Neville and Hermione, looking at the fireplace, in the direct center, slightly underneath the kettle was a huge black egg which seemed to be almost as big as Hagrid’s hands.

“Ah,” said Hagrid while fidgeting with his beard slightly, twisting the ends of his beard. “That’s a – er –”

“Where did you get it, Hagrid?” interrupted Ron, cutting off whatever excuse Hagrid was going to use. He crouched down in front of the fire, completely ignorant of the fire that was now mere inches away from his face, he studied the egg intensely. “It must’ve cost you a fortune.”

“I won it,” said Hagrid staring at the large black egg as if it was his most prized possession. “Las’ night. I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”

Hermione was instantly on the case, almost upset that Hagrid could be so careless. “But what are you going to do with it when it’s hatched?”

“Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’ yeh see,” said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. “Got this outta the library – Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, ’cause their mothers breathe on ’em, see, an’ when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see here – how ter recognise diff’rent eggs – what I got there’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. They’re rare, them.”

Hermione frowned and flicked her eyes towards Hagrid, a disapproving look in her eyes. She turned to her two best friend sin hopes they would see this from her perspective and that this could only end badly, but neither were having it, they were far too interested in the egg. “Hagrid,” she breathed out. “You live in a wooden hut!” When she was ignored, she turned to the only other intelligent person in the hut, even if she hated to admit it, and frowned. She noticed a somewhat evil looking expression on his face, yet appeared to be clam at the same time, as if he was waiting for something bad to happen. She watched as his green eyes filled with mirth when he glanced towards the egg and at that moment she knew why he looked so happy. He wanted Hagrid to hatch this egg, he wanted the baby dragon to burn down Hagrid’s hut.

“I honestly think that raising the dragon is a great idea, Hagrid,” said Harry in a soft voice, one that should win over the most oblivious people. If Granger could charm this man, he could as well. “After all, with all the work you did with Fluffy, a Cerberus, which has a Ministry of Magic Classification rating of five X’s. Now you have a dragon. If anyone can domesticate it, it’ll be you. I personally think you have a knack for creatures. Perhaps in the future you should attempt to apply for the position in the school.”

Hagrid seemed to puff out his chest a little at all the compliments that were thrown his way and of course his hand instant went and rested on the top his belly and a smile found its way onto his lips. He was completely ignorant of the dumbfounded expression on both Neville’s and Ron’s faces and unaware of the disgusted look on Hermione’s face. “Thank yeh for yeh kind words.”

“It was nothing, Hagrid,” said Harry calmly and smiled at the half-giant, mentally praising himself for remembering the half-giant’s name and not ruining his little plan. “Of course, look at the time, I better get going, I want to make it back to the castle before curfew starts, I still need to borrow a book from the library too.” With that said, he gave a slight nod and walked from the hut with a devious smile on his face.

Hermione wasn’t fooled by the charming personality of the boy, of course there was more to it than being just a Slytherin, as she doubted that it’d be any different if Harry Potter was sorted elsewhere. She had seen this happen often enough before she came to Hogwarts, there was always this one boy who seemed as if he was above everyone else, but also cruel and mean for no reason at all. She had a feeling she knew what it was, but she needed to think. “But, Hagrid –” she tried and realized that she wasn’t being listened to, as Hagrid was simply humming along to the egg.

* * *

A week went by, unbeknownst to Harry, who had spent a majority of the current day assuming it was three days prior. Before he had even looked at the clock, Easter had come and gone and he was none the wiser, not that he celebrated such a trivial holiday. Something about sitting around and gorging himself on large amounts of chocolate moulded into the shape of an egg, which were apparently left by the Easter Bunny. How quaint. Of course, he wasn’t one to hold it against anyone for doing that tradition, it was like the entire debate between Yule and Christmas, both the same thing, just named differently. He pushed the silly thought from his mind and focused entirely on the fact that the time had gone by and he had heard nothing about Hagrid’s dragon egg. The last time he was at the oaf’s hut, the egg was very, very close to hatching, at least according to the dragon book that he was looking at, a better one than what the oaf had borrowed to study. He flicked through the book one last time before he had to return it and found nothing new that he had missed during the first three readings.

He stood and picked up the book on various breeds of dragons, making sure to be as careful as possible with said book, from what Madam Pince had said it was the only one left in the school, so naturally, he made sure to treat it with the upmost care. He slipped it into his bag and strut from the Slytherin common room and made his way towards the library. He slipped past a couple of sixth years and continued his small journey towards the library, unaware that Draco had decided to follow him.

“Harry, wait up!” yelled Draco and started a slight job towards his friend. “I need to go to the library also.”

Harry paused, smirking, and turned towards his friend, who was jogging up the corridor as elegantly as possible. It really was a sight to behold. “Come on, Draco, you can run faster than that!”

Draco slowed down on his slight jog to catch his friend, normally he wouldn’t do something like that, but no one was around and he really wanted to catch Harry before the boy vanished from thin air, again, as he had done for the past few weeks, heck the entire school year. “Do you think you could get Madam Pince to remove my late strike on a book I borrowed? Crabbe took it from my bedside table and assumed it was his, of all things!”

Harry watched as Draco slowed down his jog and appeared directly at his side with a slight smile. “I can possibly try and get her to be a little more lenient with the slight warning that you got for being so careless with her books,” he chuckled and began to fiddle around in his bag. “Hey, do you happen know what date the exams are?”

Draco paused mid step before continuing as if he never stopped. “I think they start on the fourteenth and go through until the twentieth of June, I’m not too sure. An announcement will be made shortly I assume. We get the results back a few days before the term ends.”

“Good, good. I still have time to study Transfiguration then,” said Harry, ignoring the sigh from Draco. “I will not settle for anything less than getting an Outstanding in every class.”

Draco scoffed and then laughed. “I can assure you, Harry, you could take your test today and receive an Outstanding in each subject while you were reading another book and thinking what book you’ll read next. Now let’s actually talk about something –”

“Shh!” interrupted Harry and stopped Draco with his hand, he gestured to the side and saw the Golden Trio talking in hushed whispers, but they were still rather loud.

“– we’ve got lessons, we’ll get into trouble, and that’s nothing to what Hagrid’s going to be in when someone finds out what he’s doing,” said Hermione while glaring at Ron, who just so happened to be rolling his eyes.

“Shut up!” said Neville, pointing towards where Harry and Draco were standing, Harry’s hand pressed over Draco’s stomach, stopping him from moving. He knew that Harry wouldn’t go back on his word, it was a gut feeling and some past experience that made him realize that Harry greatly respected pure-blood traditions, despite being a half-blood himself. Anything dubbed as _pure-blood etiquette_ , Harry would follow, best example would be words of honour and vows, if he promised not to do something the proper way, he wouldn’t. But Malfoy was a whole new experience, the expression on his face was almost gleeful about what he had heard.

“Come, Draco, we must return these books,” said Harry, removing his hand from in front of Draco’s stomach. “I’m rather sure that Madam Pince would be upset if you failed to return another book back on time, two days in a row.”

Draco walked a tad faster, keeping in step with Harry’s faster pace that he was walking for some reason. “What do you think that was about? The way they were talking was like they had the biggest secret in the world.”

“I’m not too sure,” said Harry, lying easily, not giving his friend a single glance. “Perhaps they’re plotting to try and earn Weasley some more money, maybe the oaf is going to take Weasley as his apprentice? It explains most of it.”

“That makes sense, honestly, just curious on how secretive they got,” said Draco quietly. “Oh, a few days ago Professor Snape gave the common room an announcement, as you weren’t present, I’ll tell you now.” He said, ignoring the look on Harry’s face. “Three first-years, who are at the top of Potions, will be taken into the Forbidden Forest to gather ingredients with Professor Snape. It’s normally always Slytherins, but be prepared if you go with a Ravenclaw.”

“How odd, did he say why he was doing it?”

“Experience and all that rubbish,” said Draco. “It’s mainly to help the younger students get a grasp on Herbology and Potions. I can already assume you’ll be chosen with two others, who? I have no idea. If I had no idea that your primary talents were in potions, I’d dare assume that you’re a prodigy of some sort.”

“Hm?”

“Or the long lost son of Professor Snape.”

“I enjoy potions, it’s a satisfying subjects and due to its rarity, if I pursue it, I’ll become highly known,” stated Harry with a slight shrug. “Now hush and let me charm Madam Pince to extend a few of my books and of course gets your strike lifted.” He gave Draco a nudge and walked over towards Madam Pince. “Madam Pince, I had no idea you’d be here – oh my, did you just clean this? It looks great…”

* * *

The days flew by and Harry began to watch Draco very, very carefully. The boy had a strange glint in his eyes, as if he knew the biggest secret in the world and this intrigued him. Sitting back and slipping into his friend’s mind, he realized that his friend knew about the dragon, but had no plans to actually do anything about it. He sighed and leant back in his chair, embracing the softness of the cushioning on it. His mind drifted towards Nagini, and his chest constricted almost painfully. It’d been so many months since he last seen her and he missed her company, even if she was cantankerous nine times out of ten. He lifted his minor book on runes up and glanced at a few of them, of course he wouldn’t touch this subject for two years, but a little reading ahead never hurt anyone.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been studying rune sin the book, but he did notice that the sky soon went from a bright blue, with clouds, to dark, the moon hovering in the air in an eerie manner. The students, who were once sitting next to him, had long since left and new students had replaced them. It wasn’t long after he had that revelation that he caught Draco rushing back into the common room, a triumphant smile on his face.

“Gryffindor lost one hundred and fifty points!” said Draco with excitement. “Professor McGonagall caught the Golden Trio trying, and failing, to sneak a baby dragon out of the castle. They were pretty tight-lipped about it all, but they lost a lot of points.”

Harry was upset that the half-giant’s hut wasn’t burned down, in all honestly that would have been the icing on the cake. “They just lost points?” he asked, trying to calm his friend down from his almost overexcitement.

“They lost points and have detention with Filch tonight, in the Forbidden Forest!” said Draco and then realisation hit him. “That’s going to clash with our potion ingredient collecting.”

It wasn’t much longer after that was said when Professor Snape came in, his dark eyes glancing over everyone, and collected the two boys, an amused expression on his face. “Miss. Granger has found herself in detention tonight, so it’ll just be us three.”

‘So that’s who the mysterious third person was,’ thought Harry as he followed the Professor from the common room. He was wondering who would be joining them tonight, and it was Granger all along. Of course it was, she was like a textbook in some sense. He turned to Draco, who was rather jittery and all over the place, as if he had digested some kind of euphoria induced potion. He had, of course, gathered ingredients before, back when he was younger out the back of his house and even some at the Malfoy Manor. It wasn’t a new experience, but doing it at eleven o’clock at night was certainly new.

He walked alongside Draco in silence, their shoulders essentially touching as they followed Professor Snape down the path towards the Forbidden Forest, the man’s dark robes billowing behind him. A werewolf howled in the distance and both Harry and Draco froze for a moment before jogging slightly to catch up to the professor.

Hagrid caught sight of Professor Snape and the two Slytherin students and made his way over towards them, gesturing Neville, Ron and Hermione to follow. “Well, hello there, professor. Are yeh out here lookin’ for the beast that’s huntin’ these here unicorns?”

“No,” said Professor Snape, dragging out his reply. “We’re out here looking for potion ingredients, as you’re aware, I do it every year.”

“Right, then,” said Hagrid, his large feet pounding against the grass. “If yeh don’t mind, we’re gonna be stickin’ with yeh, safety in numbers, yeah.”

Harry snorted.

“Look there, see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

Harry just paused and looked at the blood with a confused expression. “Whatever caused the unicorn to bleed this badly must still be around, but I can assume the unicorn is dead.”

“Was it a werewolf?” asked Neville, his eyes flashing with curiosity.

“No,” said Harry instantly, looking bored. “A werewolf couldn’t catch a unicorn, even if the unicorn was old and near death. No, a werewolf will avoid a unicorn like the plague, simply because of how _pure_ unicorns are. Even if a werewolf happened to defy this, and caught a unicorn, the moment the werewolf split the skin and caught the werewolf, it’d die the moment the blood hit the werewolf’s lips, driving the beast mad.”

“Really?” said Hermione, leaning forwards.

“Yes,” said Harry. “A unicorn is simply far too pure for an impure beast to touch.”

The small group continued on the path and stopped when they saw a centaur standing around looking straight at them. “Oh, it’s you, Ronan,” said Hagrid in relief. “How are yeh?” He walked forward and shook the centaur’s hand.

“Good evening to you, Hagrid,” said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. “Were you going to shoot me?”

“Can’t be too careful, Ronan,” said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. “There’s summat bad loose in this Forest. This is Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley an’ Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An’ this is Ronan, you two. He’s a centaur.”

“If you never said anything I never would have noticed,” sneered Harry, obviously displeased at not being introduced. He turned to look at the centaur with an odd smile. “I’m Harry –”

“Yes, I have seen many things about you, Harry Potter,” said Ronan with a serene expression before turning to look at the other students. “Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?”

“Just a bit.”

“A bit. Well, that’s something,” sighed Ronan. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”

“Yeah,” said Hagrid as he glanced up towards the sky, noting that the centaur was correct. “Listen, I’m glad we’ve run inter yeh, Ronan, ‘cause there’s a unicorn bin hurt – you seen anythin’?”

Ronan didn’t answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upwards, then sighed again. “Always the innocent are the first victims, so it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

Hagrid stared at the centaur with some slight annoyance. “Have yeh seen anythin’, Ronan? Anythin’ unusual?”

“Mars is bright tonight, unusually bright,” said Ron while ignoring the snort from the boy named Harry Potter, who seemed to find the entire process funny. He turned to look at the boy in question. “You are the reason why Mars has been slightly brighter than usual, but tonight, it is not your fault.”

“Yeah, but I was meanin’ anythin’ unusual a bit nearer home,” said Hagrid once more, completely ignoring what the centaur had to say about Harry Potter. “So yeh haven’t noticed anythin’ strange?”

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. “The Forest hides many secrets.”

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

“Hello, Bane,” said Hagrid, lowing his crossbow. “All right?”

“Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?” said Bane, not sparing a glance at anyone else.

“Well enough. Look, I’ve jus’ bin askin’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in here lately? Only there’s a unicorn bin injured – would yeh know anythin’ about it?”

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skywards. “Mars is bright tonight.”

“We’ve heard,” said Hagrid rather grumpily. “Well, if either of you do see anythin’, let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll be off, then.” He led the students from the small clearing and passed through a rather dense forest area. “Never try an’ get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy star-gazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer’n the moon.”

“Are there many of them in here?” asked Hermione, walking a little closer to Hagrid.

“Oh, a fair few… keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they’re good enough about turnin’ up if ever I want a word. They’re deep, mind, centaurs… they know things… jus’ don’ let on much.”

“D’you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?”

“Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what’s bin killin’ the unicorns – never heard anythin’ like it before.”

“Hagrid, do you know where Neville is?” said Hermione curiously, looking around “He’s not here.”

Professor Snape looked up from the plant he was collecting and glanced around. “Potter isn’t here either. I didn’t see either of them leave, so they must be nearby. Shoot up sparks if you find them,” he said in his usual drawl. He sent a glance towards Draco and the two set off, determined to find the lost Slytherin.

Hermione watched Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy walk from view, the trees slowly obscuring the vision of them. “Neville just wouldn’t walk off, he’s been really down about losing the points for Gryffindor that he’s hardly stepped a toe out of line,” she said proudly for her first friend. “I would assume he followed Harry.”

“I don’t think he’d just walk away either, especially not with Snape here,” said Ron while kicking a bit of dirt with his shoes. “You don’t think that Potter took Neville do you?”

“Nonsense,” said Hermione and began to follow Hagrid who started to move to look around. “I’m not sure why you think that Harry would do anything evil when he’s our age, people just aren’t born evil, Ron.”

Ron muttered under his breath and began to walk alongside Hermione, just a few paces behind Hagrid, who was walking faster than usual and aiming his crossbow at random things. “Why do you think that Potter is so mean to Neville?”

“It’s not our concern, Ron, just focus on finding them,” snapped Hermione, but couldn’t push the question from her mind, why indeed was Harry so mean to people when he appeared to be so intelligent?

Hagrid paused and caused the two students to walk into his back, he hushed them quickly and aimed his crossbow on the ground and followed the rather large snake that was slithering in front of him with it. He gave the snake no further attention than what it had already received and began to walk again when the snake vanished into the nearby bush. “Are yeh two a’right back there?”

“Yes,” both Hermione and Ron muttered while they continued walking behind Hagrid, still curious of that rather large snake that could have attack them at any moment.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” said Hermione attempting to calm Hagrid down who began to somewhat panic when they reached another dead-end on the path.

Professor Snape led Draco along a path and paused when they saw a snake slithering directly in front of them. “Follow it,” he said calmly, and slowly followed the snake. “It could lead us to Harry and Longbottom.”

“Why would Harry just walk away? It makes very little sense,” said Draco and then sniffed slightly, the cold air pressing against his face was bringing on a flu or something. “I didn’t even see him leave, he just vanished.”

“What an accurate assumption,” droned Professor Snape and then lifted the corner of his lips into a smirk. “Potter is going to have months of detention for this.”

“But Harry wants to make it through his school life without a single detention!” said Draco instantly. “He’s worked so hard not to receive one.”

“Well then, it’ll need to be disguised as private lessons,” said Professor Snape calmly, taking three steps forwards before an ear-piercing scream filled the forest.


	21. Brief Intervals in the Forbidden Forest

_Old Name_ : The Philosopher’s Stone

 _New Name_ : Brief Intervals in the Forbidden Forest

 _Rewritten_ : 27/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Harry walked along a dirt path, which was tangled with various plants and ferns that littered the dirt, making it appear as if there was no path at all. He walked along, shrugging a fern off his shoulder, which was most likely from something, hopefully not poisonous. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Longbottom had decided to follow him when he left, but something pulled him this way, and his senses were always correct, at least most of the time. He had left shortly after the centaur began its little tirade about Mars, while Astrology hadn’t been his strong suit, but Mars was often the bringer of battle and it shone when a war or a fight was approaching. Although, not many people understand centaurs, they’re much like Seers and refuse to answer anything that will reveal the future. He continued to walk along the dirt path when he suddenly was pulled, not by anyone, just by power, along down a narrow path, which lead him into a clearing.

He glanced around, noticing more unicorn blood that was smeared across plants, shuddering as he did so. It wasn’t that he was afraid or scared of such things, no, he just simply felt uncomfortable in the forest. Of course, he had to be born a day after Longbottom, which meant they’d share schooling and weird things like this would happen. He glanced around and noticed that the blood seemed to trail away from the path and into a clearing. He debated it for a moment, whether or not he should continue or just turn around and go back to Professor Snape. He heard Longbottom groan, obviously getting hit in the face by a branch, and decided to push on, hoping that whatever was killing the unicorns would decide to kill Longbottom as well and save him the future headache.

Dashing through the tall grass and various types of flowers, he found himself in a clearing, not alone, but with a unicorn. He glanced at the unicorn with pity, the unicorn’s legs were pushed out at odd directions, its eyes were closed and a trail of silver blood was slowly spilling onto the dark leaves. He slowly edged towards the unicorn. He was a few feet away from the thing when its eyes shot open and it seemed as if it was making a strangled sound towards him. Stepping back he glanced at the unicorn who once again calmed and then closed its eyes as if it accepted its death, but didn’t want him near it. 

“Harry?” shouted Neville, his voice echoing through the clearing. “What are you doing?”

Harry ignored Longbottom and glanced back towards the unicorn, which appeared to have died. He heard rustling and glanced down, looking at the snake that had stopped just in front of his feet, its tongue flicking out erratically, tasting the air. He was about to hiss at it when he noticed it shake its head and turn towards the unicorn. He watched in fascination as the snake began to slither close to the unicorn and then slide around it and out of the clearing. He wondered if the snake wanted to eat the unicorn but instantly realized that it couldn’t due to how pure the unicorn is.

“Harry please, we have to leave! It isn’t safe here!” said Neville softly, moving closer to Harry as he spoke. “What are you looking at?” He looked at the unicorn and couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. “Did you see what did this?”

“Of course I didn’t,” said Harry with a sneer. “Even if I had the chance, even the slightest, to see it, you shouting and whimpering would’ve scared it away before I could see what was happening –” he paused when Longbottom grabbed his head and groaned. “Be quiet you moron!” he hissed, glaring. “Do you have to make a scene while something is around here killing unicorns? Clearly you just cannot help but try and make a scene to garnish some attention! Do you honestly wish to die and be killed by whatever did _that_?”

“N-no!” whimpered Neville, clenching his forehead. “It hurts, it’s never hurt like this before.”

“Whatever, just remain quiet and stop trying to pull attention to yourself. If that thing, whatever it is, spots us and tries to kill us because of you, I’ll kill you before it can even get a chance to,” sneered Harry, looking around the clearing. “How you defeated Voldemort is beyond me, Longbottom, absolutely beyond me. You whimper at the smallest things. Look – over there, something is moving. Go use your Gryffindor courage and attack it.”

“N-no!” choked out Neville, taking a step backwards. “I won’t.”

Before Harry could even think of a retort or another derogatory comment about Longbottom’s knowledge, the beast stepped directly into a beam of moonlight, unicorn blood dripping freely from its mouth, its posture hunched, as if ready to attack. He noticed that the beast only had eyes for Longbottom, as if it was suffering from severe tunnel vision and not noticing another person there, which suited him fine. His green eyes landed on the beast, which had taken a step forwards, but otherwise paused in its advance. “How can you be so pathetic?” he said, turning to Longbottom. “Why are you just standing there? You’re essentially letting that thing get closer and closer to us and you still don’t have your wand out, instead you’re picking at the hem of your robe, like that’ll help drive it away!” He sniffed and turned towards the beast, making sure it was still stationary. “If that thing attacked us, right now, you’d be dead as you’re an idiot and I’d make my escape while it’s devouring your corpse. Really, you’re standing there like you’re going to faint. Get a grip, Longbottom. Salazar aid me. If I die tonight because of your stupidity.”

“Shut up, Harry!” said Neville with an instant force of rage, he began to shake slightly. “You don’t know anything.”

“That’s right, Longbottom, get all emotional when you should be keeping your head clear,” snapped Harry, his eyes narrowed. “Didn’t your mother teach you anything? Oh right, she was dead before you could even dress yourself.”

Neville let out a distressed sound.

“Honestly, how you were taught under Dumbledore’s immense tutelage and still fail to do even the most basic of things is beyond me. Your mother would be rolling in her grave and your father is most likely smiling at the fact he has no idea who you are.”

“SHUT UP!” screamed Neville, his voice hitching in parts of it, as he huffed slightly. “At least my parents loved me. At least they loved me, that’s all that matters. I know for a fact your dad wishes I was his son, not you –” he didn’t get a chance to finish what he was saying, whether it was too far or not, as he was flying across the air. He landed with a groan on the hard and damp ground and slowly opened his eyes, revealing Harry standing across from him with his wand pointed directly at him. “No who’s getting all emotional?”

“Don’t push me, Longbottom, I know more spells than you.”

Neville couldn’t help but scream when he was hit by something, he wasn’t sure what, but the pain vanished as quickly as it came.

The thundering sound of hooves approached the small clearing, which both boys heard as well as the beast, who took the option to flee at that moment, not wanting a conflict.

Harry knelt down next to Longbottom. “Tell anyone about this, Longbottom, and you’ll regret it.”

“Are you all right?” asked the centaur, pulling Neville to his feet and glancing at Harry before focusing back on Neville.

“Yes – thank you – what was that?” said Neville as he brushed a few bits of dirt of his robes and studied the centaur carefully. It wasn’t Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

The centaur didn’t answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Neville, his eyes lingering on the scar which stood out, livid, on Neville’s forehead. “You are the Longbottom boy,” it stated and kept its blue eyes trained on Neville. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The Forest is not safe at this time – especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way. My name is Firenze,” he said as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Neville could clamber on to his back.

Harry decided he would have to walk back as he clearly wasn’t famous enough to be carried across the forest, not that he would ever do something as pathetic as riding a centaur.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty. “Firenze!” thundered Bane. “What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”

“Do you realise who this is?” said Firenze while walking in a half circle. “This is the Longbottom boy. The quicker he leaves this Forest, the better.”

“What have you been telling him?” growled Bane. “Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?”

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best.”

Bane kicked his back legs in anger. “For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our Forest!”

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, almost causing Neville to topple off. “Do you not see that unicorn?” he bellowed at Bane. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this Forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must.”

“What about the other human, are you just going to leave him behind?” said Bane snidely, pawing the ground towards Harry.

“Oh, me? No, I’m fine,” said Harry with a smirk. “I have legs, so I can walk, instead of using my fame to be carried around the forest. Although, I do have one favour, could any of you direct me to the exit?”

“Follow me,” Firenze whisked around; with Neville clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Neville didn’t have a clue what was going on. “Why’s Bane so angry?” he asked. “What was that thing you saved us from, anyway?”

Firenze slowed to a walk and warned Neville to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches but did not answer Neville’s question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Neville thought Firenze didn’t want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped. “Neville Longbottom, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

“No,” said Neville instantly, slightly shocked by the abruptness of the odd question, why would he know that? “We’ve only used the horn and tail-hair in Potions.”

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” said Firenze. “Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

Neville stared at the back of Firenze’s head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight. “But who’d be that desperate?” he wondered aloud. “If you’re going to be cursed for ever, death’s better, isn’t it?”

“It is,” agreed Firenze. “Unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Longbottom, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?”

Neville thought on it for a moment and then it hit him. “The Philosopher’s Stone! Of course – the Elixir of Life! But I don’t understand who –”

“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?” said Firenze as he moved under a tree.

“I told you that Voldemort isn’t dead,” said Harry as he whipped a tree branch out of his way. “It really isn’t that shocking –”

“Neville! Neville, are you all right?” said Hermione as she sprinted down the path towards Neville, Hagrid and Ron puffing behind her.

“I’m fine,” muttered Neville softly, hardly knowing what he was saying. “The unicorn’s dead, Hagrid, it’s in that clearing back there.”

“This is where I leave you,” murmured Firenze as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now,” he paused while he waited for Neville to slide off his back. “Good luck, Neville Longbottom.” He said with a fond facial expression. “The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.” He then turned and cantered back into the depths of the Forest, leaving the group of first-years behind.

Professor Snape walked into the clearing where the group was, his dark eyes focused solely on Harry and he began to walk towards the boy, a slight spring in his step. He spun Harry around and let his eyes rake over him, checking for any physical damage. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where did you run off to?”

Harry kept his face blank and glanced at the professor. “I didn’t technically run anywhere, I walked off to look for other potion ingredients and not stand around wasting time speaking to centaurs,” he glanced around and looked at Draco with a slight smile. “I think I found something over there though, I honestly think it was a Venomous Tentacula plant, not too sure though, Herbology isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“Avoid that, it’s a rather fatal plant,” said Professor Snape calmly and gestured for the two boys to follow him. “While they deal with the unicorns, we’re going to continue our search, we’ve already wasted enough time.”

* * *

The weeks crawled past and before any of the students had realized it, it was already pushing into June, most were in full study mode and others were mostly bragging that they were able to finish the work without issue. Harry on the other hand was still in the library, spending every day and every spare bit of time that he wasn’t spending with the Hufflepuffs or the Slytherins studying for future lessons and absorbing every and any piece of knowledge. He was walking from the library when he spotted Gemma hunched over a few books with an almost upset expression on her face. He stepped up to her table and smiled at her. “Do you need any help?” he asked with a kind smile. “I’d be happy to give you a few pointers.” He slid down next to her and glanced at the book she was reading.

“I’d love the help, but a part of me feels rather stupid for needing help from a first-year,” said Gemma with an awkward sounding laugh, she ducked her head with a sigh afterwards. “I have no idea how you can even do potions, I just don’t understand it.”

“Well, you see a lot of it is to do with reactions to the ingredients,” explained Harry as he began tracing a few things on her book. “This will react with this, but not this, you see,” he said while drawing across the page with his index finger. “However, this can cause your potion to overheat, while not fatal and it can be salvaged, its best avoided.”

Gemma placed on of her hands onto her cheek and glared at the book. “That’s not even in this book, it says nothing about that!”

Harry gave a soft laugh and glanced at her. “Well, that’s true, but that’s because with potions you need to learn by experience. For example, there’s various methods that you can use to make a potion, and they’ll all work the same, some are just more efficient. When selling potions, you want to save ingredients and improve the quality at the same time, this usually adds to the total brewing time, but at school it’s for grades and we have a limit, so you’ll want to split it in half to reach the time limit, but keep the quality high.”

“You’re worse than Professor Snape, you know that, Harry?” muttered Gemma before looking back at the potions book. “He does the same method, just tells us what to do, not how to do it.”

“Maybe that’s what happens when he taught me, I just got used to his method of teaching, and it just feels right,” said Harry before leaning closer towards the book. “I can assume you’ll be doing something advanced, so I assume that you’ll want to focus on studying those. I would honestly begin with the Draught of Living Death.”

“Draught of Living Death?” repeated Gemma. “That’s highly advanced!”

“Of course it is, which is why you should start with it, although, that may be on the N.E.W.T exam, I would actually start with Polyjuice.”

The two began discussing various methods of potion making and ways to help improve Gemma’s work and help her pass her O.W.L this year. Harry on the other hand was enjoying teaching her the complex art of potion making, his patience at an all-time high with Gemma, but anyone else would have been degraded to the point of tears or whimpering. He continued helping Gemma until he yawned and checked the time, which revealed that curfew was approaching rapidly.

Harry stood with a smile to Gemma. “I better go, I don’t want to be out after curfew and get in trouble from Filch, or worse, Professor Snape,” he gave a mock shudder and laughed along with Gemma.

“Never change Harry, you’re a good kid,” said Gemma as she hugged Harry tightly before letting him go. “Like a brother, a younger one, but all the same,” she said to her books after Harry had the left the library.

* * *

Harry was carefully shifting around things in his trunk, carefully shifting aside the Dark Arts books that he had received at Christmas time by T. M. Riddle. He still hadn’t found anything on said person, nothing at all. He was wary to ask Lucius or any adult in case the reaction was negative, especially since he was given Dark Arts from the name, not that he could do much research while he was at school regardless. He moved around pieces of clothes, eventually setting aside the black cap, which he swore he never once wore, on top and closed the lid of his trunk, which in itself was another battle, not even magic could help closing the full trunk. He would have to force Draco to pack sometime soon, as well, lest the boy forget to actually pack and then he’d leave something behind and spend a majority of the holidays whining that he didn’t have it.

He slipped his trunk back under his bed and let out a slightly victorious sigh. He was ready for the exams, which were very, very soon. Rosier had said that they were only the first year exams and hardly important, but he felt as if they were important. Perhaps it was simply because it’d start his goal of getting an Outstanding in every subject, or if it’d cause that dream to fil if he got something less.

Draco sauntered into the room and smiled at Harry with an approving smile. “Guess what?”

“What?” said Harry, spinning around and facing the taller blond. “Or was what you said a rhetorical statement and I wasn’t meant to say anything?”

“Be quiet and just listen,” said Draco with a scowl at being interrupted, despite asking a question. “Father said you can stay with us over the summer holidays if your parents agree!” he said while waving around a letter which was most likely the finest quality Galleons could buy. “I have been planning this for _weeks_!”

“With all that emphases you put on weeks, I’d assume you planned it just this morning,” muttered Harry and then smirked at the appalled look on Draco’s face. “My parents should agree, it’ll be great to spend two months with you and not have to worry about running into Weasley or Longbottom.”

“Exactly,” Draco said simply and walked towards Harry, sitting on his bed. “Do you think that Longbottom will pass the exams this year? I mean he’s failed most of his classes.”

“Even if he failed them all, I’m sure that his scores will be ignored because he’s famous,” said Harry calmly, as if he had already foreseen such events. “Really, it wouldn’t surprise me if he could get a Troll in every subject and people would still bow at his feet.” He scoffed slightly. “Who in their right mind would bow at another person’s feet?”

Draco nodded, agreeing with his friend. “I’m not mindless, I’ll never bow to another person.”

“That’s good to hear, Draco, after all, others should be bowing to us!” Harry laughed at the end of the conversation and then sighed. “Pack your things.”

“W-what?” stuttered out Draco as he stared at Harry. “There’s still weeks left!”

Harry didn’t falter, he kept firm and slightly lifted the corners of his mouth. “Exactly, and you haven’t even started to pack yet. If you do it now, you won’t have to do it later.”

“I’d honestly rather do it later,” muttered Draco. “If I do it now, it’ll just get messy later and I’ll have to do it twice!” He made it a habit to dig around in his trunk and pull out various pairs of socks before throwing them back in. “See?”

“Point made. You’re highly untidy,” Harry muttered and honestly wondered where this whole motherly thing had come from, who cares if Draco had packed or not. “We have about two hours before the exams start, what do you want to do?”

“Sit around and do nothing – wait – maybe we could play a game of wizard’s chess?” Draco reached into the cupboard and pulled out the board. “Yes, let’s play this, I’ll beat you this time.”

Harry sat down next to Draco and looked at the board, debating about being black or white. “Fine, but the loser does the entire dorm room cleaning for the rest of the school year.”

“You’re on!” said Draco with pure challenge in his voice.

* * *

Harry sat at his assigned desk for the very first exam, which was for Charms. Something that his mother tended to be very talented in, in fact, she broke the previous Charms records at the school. The harsh rays of the sun pushed through the window and seemed to land directly on him, which he swore was done on purpose to make hesitate on a question and then doubt himself. He held the black quill in his fingers, which had been charmed with an Anti-Cheating spell, and twirled it between his fingers as he let out a breath. He wrote down another answer in his almost perfect cursive writing, his penmanship, or in this case, quillmenship was absolutely perfect, at least according to Narcissa. A few did compare his writing to Draco’s, but that’s what happened when you learned together.

He only just remembered that after they finished the practical exam, they’d be called off to the side and asked to perform one random spell, and they’d be graded on that. They would be called up straight after they finished the theory, which at this rate, it’d be him, then Draco and finally Granger. He tapped his quill four times and then wrote down the final answer on the piece of parchment, sliding it across the smooth surface of the desk. He stood up silently, and picked up the parchment and made his way towards the front of the Great Hall, which had been changed into an Exam Hall. He smiled at Professor Flitwick, who was standing on a pile of books. “Here you are, professor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Flitwick, jumping slightly on the pile of books. “If you’ll just come into the room over there, we’ll get your practical part done in just a jiffy.” He led Harry into the small and dark room, which was almost pitch black, just a few strands of light flickered in from the windows. “Before we continue, would you like to try for some extra points?”

“Of course, professor, that’d be lovely,” said Harry, glancing around the darkened room with some slight confusion. “What would you like me to do?”

“Just a simple spell that’d light this room, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Flitwick, waiting for an answer.

“This is a trick question, isn’t it?” said Harry with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect any less from a Ravenclaw. The first thing most would assume would be the Wand-Lighting Charm, as it’d light the room, but not in the way you mean. I can assume it’s the Fire-Making Spell, Incendio, as the torches are all connected with a Protean Charm.”

“Well done!” squeaked Professor Flitwick. “We’ll now move onto your practical exam, which should be rather simple if you already understand the Protean Charm. You’ll be making a pineapple tap-dance across this desk.”

The rest of the exams were rather easy and came to him instantly. Transfiguration was the only one that somewhat stumped him on the practical, as he had missed the lesson where they turned a mouse into a snuff box, so he had to wing it. He wasn’t sure how he did, but he was sure that he had passed when he saw the professor smiling brightly at him. He made his way towards the Potions room that way he could do the exam, with a spring in his step. Potions was the second last exam that he had to do. With Astronomy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology and finally Transfiguration completed, he only had Potions and then History of Magic left and he was done.

Potions was by far the easiest exam that he did. Professor Snape’s constant neck breathing hardly bothered him in the slightest, as he was used to it as both Professor Snape and his mother did it when he was taught potions. It was often said that you should be able to brew with any distractions around you, so they both went for the most annoying one. Distractions could cost you an easy potion and of course, isolating and removing distractions was key, or just ignore them. He could make the Forgetfulness Potion in his sleep, it barely took him any time and considering that he could skip steps if he wanted.

He stepped out of the History of magic exam with a smile on his face, he couldn’t remember actually marking anything down wrong and he had honestly read about self-stirring cauldrons a few days ago as he was debating the effectiveness with Draco. He caught sight of Granger, who looked rather happy about her results, he slowed down slightly to listen in, in case she beat him in marks.

“That was far easier than I thought it would be,” said Hermione, walking next to her two friends who had a confused expression on their faces. “I needn’t have learnt about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager.”

“No more revision,” said Ron excitably, a smile forming on his lips. “You could look more cheerful, Neville, we’ve got a week before we find out how badly we’ve done, there’s no need to worry yet.”

Neville began to rub at his forehead rather furiously. “I wish I knew what this means!” he burst out angrily. “My scar keeps hurting – it’s happened before, but never as often as this.”

“You should go and see Madam Pomfrey, Neville.”

“I’m not ill, Hermione,” snapped Neville and then sent her an apologizing look. “I think it’s a warning… I think it means that danger is coming.”

Ron was too excited that the exams were over to get worked up about it, he sent Neville a smile and then shrugged. “Neville, relax, Hermione’s right, the Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore’s around. Anyway, we’ve never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he’s not going to try it again in a hurry.”

Neville nodded, but he couldn’t shake off the lurking feeling that there was something that he had forgotten to do, something highly important. “Hermione, something just isn’t right –”

Hermione waved an arm and cut him off. “That’s just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we’d done that one.”

Neville was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn’t have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter towards the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy… never.

“I am amazed you geniuses haven’t figured it out yet,” said Harry with a smirk, enjoying the fact that he startled all three of them. “Of course, I realized it ages ago, but I’m not Gryffindor enough to mindlessly chase after it.”

“What do you want, Potter?” snapped Ron, his sleepy eyes snapping open to glare the Slytherin.

Harry turned towards Neville and smiled. “What’s the one thing that the oaf has always wanted? What got him so excited recently?”

Neville thought on it for a few moments before the sudden realization hit him. “Hagrid has always wanted a dragon! He told me so the first time I met him –”

Harry rolled his eyes and cut Neville off before the boy could ramble on more about it. “Don’t you think it odd that a shady man who refuses to lower his cloak is in a bar carrying around a rare dragon egg? Most of all, they single handily seek out the oaf and begin speaking about said dragon egg as if they know the oaf will instantly want it. These coincidences just don’t happen.”

“Stop calling him an oaf!” snapped Hermione, but the gears started to turn in her mind and she put it together. “It was Professor Snape at the bar.”

Harry instantly slapped his hand into his head and sighed. “Professor Snape is not after the Stone, I’m not sure why you think that he is, but I can assure that he’s not after it. Why do you doubt me when you know I’m a capable Legilimens?”

Hermione looked highly curious on what a Legilimens was, but she schooled her face and looked at Harry with a pointed look. “For all we know, you could be after the Stone and are trying to throw us off course.”

Ron gave Hermione an approving glare. “Honestly, Potter, Hermione’s right, it could be you – don’t laugh!”

Harry stopped laughing and sighed. “If I was after the Stone, I wouldn’t be throwing the blame off someone else, now, would I?” he muttered. “Look – there’s the oaf, call him over, he will come to you three.” He watched the oaf turn and walk towards his hut. “I wonder if he has more dragon eggs in there,” he muttered mostly to himself, but loud enough so that it would offend the Gryffindors. “He could be selling information about you, Longbottom, for dragon eggs.”

“Shut up, Harry,” snapped Neville as he began to jog towards Hagrid’s hut at fast rate, unaware that he was being followed by the Slytherin, who was walking at a moderate pace. He pounded on the door smiled when Hagrid opened the door holding a teapot.

Hagrid smiled at the three of them warmly. “Hello. Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?”

Ron let out a sigh. “Yes, plea –”

“No, we’re in a hurry!” said Neville, cutting across Ron. “Hagrid, I’ve got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?”

“Dunno, he wouldn’ take his cloak off,” said Hagrid as casually as possible. He placed the teapot on the table and glanced at the three stunned looking students, he raised his eyebrows. “It’s not that unusual, yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head – that’s one of the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn’ he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up.”

Harry slid in behind the three Gryffindors and smiled. “From what my father was saying a bit ago, they caught most of the dragon dealers in England and respective areas, including Scotland,” he paused and inspected his nails. “You do realize trading with dragon eggs is a five year minimum sentence in Azkaban? Now if you don’t want to go there, you’ll tell me what exactly happened. Start with if the man seemed interested in anything Hogwarts related.”

Neville, Ron and Hermione all gave Harry a dirty look and then sent one towards Hagrid which screamed an apology.

“Mighta come up,” said Hagrid sadly, mainly at the fact that he could go to Azkaban. “Yeah… he asked what I did, an’ I told him I was gamekeeper here… he asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after… so I told him… an’ I said what I’d always really wanted was a dragon… an’ then… I can’ remember too well, ‘cause he kept buyin’ me drinks… let’s see… yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an’ we could play cards fer it if I wanted… but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn’ want it ter go ter any old home… so I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy.”

“I can assume he was highly interested in Fluffy.”

“Well – yeah – how many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’ cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus’ play him a bit o’ music an’ he’ll go straight off ter sleep –” Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. “I shouldn’ta told yeh that!” he blurted out. “Forget I said it! Hey – where’re yeh goin’?”

Harry didn’t move, but he took a step closer towards Hagrid. “Now that those three are gone, how about we have some tea and a nice chat and maybe I can just forget all about the fact you had a dragon egg?”


	22. Prove Your Worth

_Old Name_ : The Philosopher’s Stone

 _New Name_ : Prove Your Worth

 _Rewritten_ : 29/March/2016

***

“ **Conversation,** ” = Parseltongue

‘Conversation,’ = Thoughts

‘ _Conversation_ ,’ = Tom

* * *

Neville, Ron and Hermione didn’t speak a word to each other until they had come to a halt in the Entrance Hall, which seemed rather cold comacompared to the warmth on the grounds. The three of them shared and a look and Neville shook his head, letting out a sigh. “We’ve got to find Dumbledore,” he said quietly. “Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak – it must’ve been easy, once he’d got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn’t stop him. Where’s Dumbledore’s office?”

“I haven’t been,” said Hermione.

“Neither have I.”

“I’m sure you know, Harry, could you take us?” said Neville, turning to face Harry. “Harry?”

Ron didn’t bother looking for the Slytherin. “We’ll just have to –”

“What are you three doing inside?” said Professor McGonagall sternly, glancing at the three Gryffindors inside.

“We would like to see Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione, pushing all her confidence outwards, not wanting to appear weak in front of their Head of House.

“See Professor Dumbledore?” repeated Professor McGonagall. “Why?”

Neville swallowed. “It’s sort of secret.”

Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared in obvious anger, her hands tightened slightly. “A secret?” she repeated, her lips pursed into a thin line. “Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago, he received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once.”

“He’s gone?” said Neville frantically. “Now?”

Professor McGonagall shifted slightly on her feet and sent the boy a scathing look. “Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Longbottom, he has many demands on his time –”

“But this is important!”

“Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Longbottom?”

“Look,” said Neville, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Professor – it’s about the Philosopher’s Stone!”

Professor McGonagall froze, her eyes widened for a split-second before she composed herself. “How do you know about that?”

“Professor, I think – I know – that Sn – that someone’s going to try and steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore,” said Neville, stuttering slightly as he spoke, but he didn’t stop. Now that he had her attention, he couldn’t lose it.

Professor McGonagall eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow. I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.”

Neville sighed. “But Professor –”

“Longbottom, I know what I’m talking about,” said Professor McGonagall shortly. “I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.” She quickly walked away, her eyes darting around making sure no one had listened in.

“It’s tonight,” said Neville, watching the professor leave. “Snape’s going through the trapdoor tonight. He’s found out everything he needs and now he’s got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up.”

“But what can we –” Hermione gasped, stopping her speech dead in her tracks, her eyes widened.

“Good afternoon,” said Professor Snape silkily, his eyes narrowing a she studied the three Gryffindors. “You shouldn't be inside on such a nice day.”

“We were –” began Neville, unsure of what he was actually going to say in defence.

“You ought to be more careful,” said Professor Slowly, his dark eyes flicked from each of their faces. “Hanging around like this, people will think you’re up to something. And Gryffindor really can’t afford to lose any more points, can they? Be warned, Longbottom – any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you.”

Neville watched Snape leave, most likely towards the staff room as he went in the same direction as Professor McGonagall. “Right, here’s what we’ve got to do,” he whispered urgently. “One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape – wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you’d better do that.”

“Why me?”

“It’s obvious,” said Ron. “You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know.” He put on a high voice and continued, “Oh Professor Flitwick, I’m so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong…”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped Hermione and then began to chuckle slightly at the impersonation. “Okay, fine.”

“And we’d better stay outside the third-floor corridor,” Neville told Ron. “Come on.”

But that part of the plan didn’t work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again, and this time, she lost her temper. “I suppose you think you’re harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!” she stormed. “Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you’ve come anywhere near here again, I’ll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!”

Neville and Ron went back to the common room. Neville slumped into a chair and glanced at Ron. “At least Hermione’s on Snape’s tail.”

The portrait to the Gryffindors common room swung open and revealed an almost hysterical Hermione. “I’m sorry, Neville!” she wailed. “Professor Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Professor Flitwick, and Professor Snape went to get him, and I’ve only just got away. I don’t know where Professor Snape went.”

“Well, that’s it then, isn’t it?” muttered Neville, ignoring the two staring looks by his friends. “I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try and get to the Stone first.”

“You’re mad!” said Ron, his eyes wide. His face paled slightly and his freckles stood out more than they usually did.

“You can’t!” said Hermione. “After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You’ll be expelled!”

“SO WHAT?” shouted Neville. “Don’t you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort’s coming back! Haven’t you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He’ll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn’t matter anymore, can’t you see? Do you think he’ll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor win the House Cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll just wait for Voldemort to find me. It’s only dying a bit later than I would have done, because I’m never going over to the Dark Side! I’m going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?”

“You’re right, Neville,” said Hermione softly.

* * *

Harry spent a vast majority of the day following the Golden Trio around, making use of his invisibility cloak. He watched as the three of them fidgeted and kept locking eyes with Professor Snape at dinner, which came a little earlier tonight, perhaps because the headmaster had left and Professor McGonagall, being deputy headmistresses, set it earlier than usual. He couldn’t help but think that it had to be about the Philosopher’s Stone, as a few professors were acting rather suspicious. He had hit a dead-end regarding the stone. He could either follow the Golden Trio under his cloak and swoop in and take it at the last second or assist them and swipe it when they were distracted.

Each idea had too many pros and cons to list without someone noticing, so he decided to just aid them and get a cover story in place with that.

He had got a lot of information regarding Fluffy, the three-headed dog, from Hagrid, who happily revealed it after a few threats and then a few minutes of soothing the threats and promising never to reveal anything. Naturally, the oaf had spilled everything, even irrelevant details.

“What’re you doing tonight, Harry?” said Rosier, eyeing his friend with concern. “You keep glancing off into space.”

“Nothing,” said Harry, still looking towards the Great Hall doors. “I have something to do tonight, Rosier, if anyone asks, tell them I’m exploring or with a studying with a professor.”

“Alright.”

Harry watched the Golden Trio leave and he left three minutes later, taking a shortcut to the third-floor. He should make it with a few minutes to spare, as long as the Golden Trio didn’t get caught.

“Harrison.”

Harry turned and faced the gloomy voice that belong to the Bloody Baron and smiled at the ghost, who was hanging in the air almost sadly. “Hello, Baron.”

“Last I heard these halls were forbidden, at least that’s what Peeves has said, though, I don’t take his word for granted.”

Harry had first spoken to the ghost just after the events of Hallowe’en. He quickly learned that the Baron was a great listener and didn’t become a ghost to cling to life, instead he chose to remain as a ghost because he deserved it. Of course, Tom would often snicker whenever he spoke to the Bloody Baron, as if there was some major secret regarding the ghost that he would never share, it unnerved him to no end. “I have to say that Peeves is correct,” he said with a smile. “It pains me to say, however.”

The Bloody Baron laughed and smiled, hovering slightly. “You always do bring a smile to my ghostly face. How the youth make me laugh.”

“I’m glad I’m good for something, at least,” said Harry with a sly smile. “What brings you out this way, Baron? You normally avoid this part of the castle.”

“I do, I do,” muttered the Baron, almost sadly. “I must be off, Harrison, be safe, child.”

Harry watched the ghost float away, before turning straight into a wall and leaving. He could never gain the courage to scold the ghost for calling him Harrison when his name was Harry and he disliked it when people added extra things to his name. He popped out of the corridor and twisted straight onto the forbidden third-floor corridor, glancing at the locked door, which was slightly ajar, he made his move forwards.

“Well, it appears that Snape’s already got past Fluffy,” said Neville peering into the room. “If you both want to go back, I won’t blame you.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“We’re coming,” said Hermione bravely, not even looking away like she wanted to.

“Cute,” said Harry, causing the three of them to jump. “Guess it’s the four of us.”

“No, no, no!”

“Be quiet, Weasley,” sneered Harry, stepping just behind them. “You sound like an impertinent child.”

“Must you speak like Snape?”

“Professor Snape, Weasley,” corrected Harry with a smirk. “And yes, now get in the room.”

“You can’t come with us!”

“Why not?” asked Harry, a cruel looking smile on his face. “Do you want me to turn around and go tell the professors what you’re doing?”

“Alright,” said Neville. “But you have to listen to us, Harry, this is serious.”

“Of course.”

Hermione glanced around the room, ignoring the bickering. “What’s that at its feet?”

“Looks like a harp,” said Ron, staring at the object. “Snape must’ve left it there.”

“Harry,” warned Neville.

“I said nothing!” said Harry, looking at the harp. “It’s charmed to continuously play. Hagrid told me about it, the incantation and all.”

“So we don’t need the flute at all?” said Neville casually, holding the wooden flute up.

“No,” said Harry, flicking out his wand and pointing it at the silent harp. “Ludere!”

“Ludere?” said Ron, shocked that the harp actually played.

“It means play in Latin, Ron,” said Hermione, an approving look on her face. “It’s really clever, I would have never thought that it’d be that simple.”

The four of them watched as the three-headed dog’s eyes, all six of them, began to droop. Slowly, the dog’s growls ceased – it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

“I think we’ll be able to get the trapdoor open now,” said Neville, taking slow steps towards the dog. “How long does that spell last?”

“Thirty minutes,” said Harry, walking forwards, pushing Weasley in front of him.

“Ladies first,” blurted out Ron, glancing down the trapdoor, which was complete darkness.

“You lot are hopeless,” said Harry, running his temple.

Ron made a growling sound and gritted his teeth, peering down the trapdoor, leaning down a bit more, Neville holding his legs.

“What can you see?”

“Nothing – just black – there’s no way of climbing down, we’ll just have to drop.”

“Lumos!” said Harry, throwing the ball of light down the hole in the ground. “Amazing, we can now see.”

“What’s that?” said Ron, peering down the trapdoor.

“Not sure, go have a look.”

“What?”

Harry nudged Ron and caused the boy to fall down the trapdoor. “Oops,” he said, an innocent expression on his face. “I slipped.”

Neville glared and quickly dashed to the trapdoor, looking down. “Are you alright, Ron?”

“Yeah – it’s a soft landing, jump down.”

Neville jumped first, then Hermione and finally Harry, who scowled about doing such a childish thing as jumping down a trapdoor.

“What’s this stuff?” asked Ron, looking wide-eyed at the plant.

“We must be miles under the school,” said Hermione after she landed. “I cannot hear the harp.”

“Lucky this plant thing’s here, really.”

“Lucky!” shrieked Hermione. “Look at you, Ron!”

Harry sat off to the side, smirking as the Golden Trio fought to free themselves from the plant. He had freed himself as soon as he landed, not trusting such a soft landing, or one that moved as soon as he landed on it. Maybe in the Muggle world, but this was the Wizarding world, and you just didn’t trust that sort of thing.

“Stop moving!” shouted Neville at Ron. “I know what it is – it’s Devil’s Snare!’

“Oh, I’m so glad we know what it’s called, that’s a great help,” snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant curling around his neck.

“Shut up, I’m trying to remember how to kill it!” said Neville fiercely.

“Well, hurry up, I can’t breathe!”

“Professor Sprout never told us how to kill it, that’s next lesson!” said Neville. “I only know how to tend to it!”

Hermione began a songlike chant, clearly trying to remember something. “Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare…”

“You three would be dead without me,” said Harry, flicking his wand towards the plant. “Incendio!”

The fire from the spell engulfed the plant, almost scorching Ron alive in the process.

“You should have used Bluebell Flames!” said Hermione, looking at the destroyed plant. “It would have been less damaging.”

Harry tucked his wand away and smiled. “Could have also used Lumos Solem, which would have done the same thing, but Incendio is better.”

“This way,” said Neville, pointing down a stone passageway which was the only way on.

The four of them made down the narrow passage way, carefully skirting along the walls, making sure not to trigger a trap or anything. All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downwards and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards’ bank. If they met a dragon, a fully grown dragon – Norbert had been bad enough.

“Can you hear something?” whispered Ron.

Neville listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead. “Do you think it’s a ghost?”

“I don’t know… sounds like wings to me.”

“There’s light ahead – I can see something moving,” said Hermione, rushing forwards.

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy, wooden door.

“Do you think they’ll attack us if we cross the room?”

“Probably,” said Hermione. “They don’t look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… Well, there’s nothing for it… I’ll run.” She took a deep breath, covered her face with her arms and sprinted across the room. She expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at her any second, but nothing happened. She reached the door untouched. She pulled the handle, but it was locked.

Harry, Neville and Ron all followed. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn’t budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora Charm.

“I could have told you that would fail, Granger,” said Harry, smirking.

“You have a better idea?” said Hermione instantly, glaring at him. “At least I tried something.”

“Now what?” said Ron.

“These birds… they can’t be here just for decoration.”

“They’re not birds,” said Harry with a dismissive snort. “Do you lot need glasses?”

Neville gasped. “They’re keys! Winged keys – look carefully. So that must mean…” he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. “Yes – look! Broomsticks! We’ve got to catch the key to the door!”

“But there are hundreds of them!”

Ron examined the lock on the door. “We’re looking for a big, old-fashioned one – probably silver, like the handle.”

Harry watched as the three Gryffindors each seized a broom and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. He watched as they grabbed and snatched but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

“That one!” called Neville to the others. “That big one – there – no, there – with bright blue wings – the feathers are all crumpled on one side.”

Ron went speeding in the direction that Neville was pointing, crashed into the ceiling and nearly fell off his broom.

“We’ve got to close in on it!” Neville called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. “Ron, you come at it from above – Hermione, stay below and stop it going down – and I’ll try and catch it. Right, NOW!”

Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upwards, the key dodged them both and Neville streaked after it; it sped towards the wall, Neville leant forward and with a nasty crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione’s cheers echoed around the high chamber.

They landed quickly and Neville ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned – it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

“Ready?” asked Neville, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn’t see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Neville, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.

“Ooh, I like this room,” said Harry, looking around. “I wonder if I can get something like this at home.”

“Now what do we do?” whispered Neville, looking around the room, following Harry’s gaze.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Ron. “We’ve got to play our way across the room.”

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

“How?” said Hermione nervously.

“I think,” said Ron, “we’re going to have to be chessmen.”

Harry sighed. “I let you do the last room in your Gryffindor way, allow me.”

“What?” said Neville, his eyes rather wide.

Harry flicked out his wand and aimed it at the white King. “Bombarda!”

Hermione gasped as the white king exploded into pieces, white pieces scattering across the floor. “You cannot do that!”

“I just did,” said Harry, aiming his wand towards the other pieces.

“No, I mean you cannot do that!” said Hermione, gesturing towards the white king, who was slowly reassembling back on the chessboard. “We must have to play the game and win that way.”

“That’s boring,” said Harry, leaning against the wall. “I would have liked to blow up all the pieces.”

Ron couldn’t help but laugh, he looked put out moments later for laughing. He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight’s horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron. “Do we – er – have to join you to get across?”

The black knight nodded.

Ron turned to the other three. “I suppose we’ve got to take the place of three of the black pieces.”

“No,” said Harry. “I’ll not play a life-sized version of chess, even if I am at a grandmaster level.”

“You don’t have to, there’s only three spots,” said Neville. “Ron, Hermione and I can take those.”

Fine,” said Harry. “I’ll be over here, watching you lot get yourselves killed.”

“Now, don’t be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess,” said Ron.

“We’re not offended,” said Neville quickly. “Just tell us what to do.”

“Well, Neville, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go there instead of that castle.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to be a knight,” said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board leaving three empty squares which Neville, Ron and Hermione took.

Harry said nothing, he knew you could play it without actually stepping foot onto the chessboard.

“White always plays first in chess,” said Ron, peering across the board. “Yes… look!”

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Neville’s knees were trembling. What if they lost?

“Nev – move diagonally four squares to the right.”

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.

“Had to let that happen,” said Ron, looking shaken. “Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on.”

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Neville and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

“We’re nearly there,” muttered Ron suddenly. “Let me think – let me think…” the white queen turned her blank face towards him. “Yes…” said Ron softly, “it’s the only way… I’ve got to be taken.”

Harry leaned forwards in anticipation.

“NO!” Neville and Hermione shouted.

“That’s chess!” snapped Ron. “You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I’ll make my move and she’ll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Neville!”

“But –”

“Do you want to stop Snape or not?”

“Ron –”

“Look, if you don’t hurry up, he’ll already have the Stone!” There was nothing else for it. “Ready?” called Ron, his face pale but determined. “Here I go – now, don’t hang around once you’ve won.” He stepped forward and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard around the head with her stone arm and he crashed to the floor – Hermione screamed but stayed on her square – the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he’d been knocked out.

Shaking, Neville moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Neville’s feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Neville, Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

“What if he’s –?”

“He’ll be fine,” said Harry, without even looking back. “What do you think is next?”

“We’ve had Sprout’s, that was the Devil’s Snare – Flitwick must’ve put charms on the keys – McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive – that leaves Quirrell’s spell, and Snape’s.”

They had reached another door.

“All right?” whispered Neville.

“Go on.”

Neville pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making all three of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

Neville pulled open the next door, the three of them hardly daring to look at what came next – but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

“This one is brilliant,” said Harry, stepping into the room.

“How do you know?” said Hermione. “You haven’t even seen it yet!”

“I know because it’s Professor Snape’s.”

They stepped over the threshold and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn’t ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onwards. They were trapped.

“Look!” Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Neville and Harry looked over her shoulder to read it:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione let out a great sigh and Neville, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

“Brilliant,” said Hermione. “This isn’t magic – it’s logic – a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here for ever.”

“But so will we, won’t we?”

“Of course not,” said Hermione. “Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple.”

“But how do we know which to drink?”

“Give me a minute.”

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands. “Got it,” she said. “The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire – towards the Stone.”

Neville looked at the tiny bottle. “There’s only enough there for one of us,” he said. “That’s hardly one swallow.”

They looked at each other.

“Which one will get you back through the purple flames?” asked Neville.

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

“You drink that,” said Neville. “No, listen – get back and get Ron – grab brooms from the flying-key room, they’ll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy – go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I’m no match for him really.”

“It isn’t Snape!” said Harry with agitation. “I know it’s not him for a fact because I came here before him. He’s currently marking essays in his office.”

“But Neville – what if You-Know-Who’s with him?” said Hermione, ignoring Harry’s words.

“Well – I was lucky once, wasn’t I?” said Neville, pointing at his scar. “I might get lucky again.”

Hermione’s lip trembled and she suddenly dashed at Neville and threw her arms around him.

“Hermione!”

“Neville – you’re a great wizard, you know.”

“I’m not as good as you,” said Neville, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.

“Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery and – oh Neville – be careful!”

“You drink first,” said Neville. “You are sure which is which, aren’t you?”

“Positive,” said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end and shuddered.

“It’s not poison?” said Neville anxiously.

“No – but it’s like ice.”

“Quick, go, before it wears off.”

“Good luck – take care!”

“GO!”

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

“Just you and me, Longbottom.”

Neville jumped. “I forgot you were here!” he said. “Are you just going to wait in here?”

“Sure,” lied Harry. “Seeing as I cannot go anywhere.”

Neville took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames. “Here I come,” he said and he drained the little bottle in one gulp. It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body but couldn’t feel them – for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire – then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

“What a Muggle,” sneered Harry as he watched the table closely, waiting. It was about a minute later when the two bottles that had been taken reappeared on the table and he quickly swiped both, putting the one that would allow him to leave in his robes and held the one that would take him to the room where Longbottom was. “Honestly, how thick can they get? It was clear the potions would refill else one would be empty, due to the fact that the troll had been either knocked out or killed, which meant someone else was in the final room.”

He continued on with his mutterings until he took a sip of the small potion, which would allow him entry. He vastly enjoyed the feeling of ice washing over his body, allowing him to step through the fire without harm. He wrapped the invisibility cloak, which had been securely hidden in his pocket, over him and proceeded through the fire.

“Use the boy… use the boy!”

Harry paused and glanced around, looking at the happenings of the scene in front of him. He caught sight of Longbottom, standing in the middle of the room, near the Mirror of Erised, which apparently found its new home down here. He made his way across the stone floor, stepping lightly and keeping his eyes directly on the professor and Longbottom, making sure none of them noticed him. He didn’t have long, he needed to secure the Stone and then get out of here as soon as possible, perhaps he could figure out a way to create a fake Stone and make it look like it was destroyed or perhaps he could destroy the mirror.

All last minute thoughts that he should have decided on before he even came here. He could he have been so foolish to overlook such a thing?

“Come here,” barked out Quirrell, staring at Longbottom. “Look in the Mirror and tell me what you see.”

Harry watched as Neville slowly walked towards the professor, his feet pausing slightly before each step. It was almost painful to watch. For a brief moment he panicked that if Longbottom didn’t do something, the Stone could be taken before he even got a chance to see it.

‘ _Just observe_ ,’ said Tom. ‘ _Nothing more, nothing less_.’

Harry listened and observed, just as he was told to do. He heard the rant by Professor Quirrell, relating to his master and then finally the longwinded speech about how there’s no good or evil, only power, and those too weak to seek it. It was a powerful yet catchy phrase, one that could rival his own.

“Ow!”

Harry turned and looked as Neville was pretty much thrown at the mirror.

“Well?” said Professor Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?”

“I see myself shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore,” said Neville, his skin as white as snow. “I – I’ve just won the House Cup for Gryffindor –”

Professor Quirrell stared for a moment. “Get out of the way!”

“He lies… he lies…”

“Longbottom, come back here!” Professor Quirrell shouted. “Tell me the truth! What did you just see?”

“Let me speak to him… face to face…”

“Master, you are not strong enough!”

“I have strength enough… for this…”

Harry had carefully manoeuvred towards one of the nearby pillars, his footsteps covered by the panting of Longbottom and the shouts and one-sided conversation by Professor Quirrell, who was no longer stuttering, but he knew the stutter was fake, he learned it a long time ago. He peered around the corner to see Professor Quirrell drop the purple turban on the ground, revealing a second face attached to the back of his head.

“Neville Longbottom,” the voice from the face on the back of Quirrell’s head said in an eerily tone, the two words bouncing of each wall in the chamber. “Do you see what I’ve come? Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another’s body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the Forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… now… why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?”

‘Okay,’ thought Harry, tucking his head behind the pillar. ‘Longbottom has the Stone and that thing knew he had it, perhaps it wasn’t safe to continuously look around the pillar.’

“Don’t be a fool!”

Harry waited for any sign of life, a curse or whimpering or something! The issue with hiding and not seeing was that it appeared the conversation seemingly slowed to a few words a minute. For all he knew, Professor Quirrell could be throwing around spells and he wouldn’t see it.

“Better to save your own life and join me,” said the face. “Lest you meet the same end as your mother. She died begging me for mercy –”

“LIAR!”

“How touching,” hissed the face. “I always value bravery… yes, boy, your mother was brave. Your father quickly fled the scene to try and fight off one of my loyal Death Eaters while I slid through your home and straight towards your filthy mother. She needn’t have died, I would have spared her… she was trying to protect you… now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.”

It didn’t take much more for Harry to figure out that the face on the back of Quirrell’s head was Voldemort. It was odd, in a sense, that Voldemort simply said that Longbottom’s father vanished to fight a Death Eater and not defend his wife and child. Perhaps Frank Longbottom had faith in his wife ability? Of course, he remembered that it was Rosier’s father that sought out Frank Longbottom, after the Dark Lord feel, Frank had managed to hold off three Death Eaters, but Rosier’s father was able to take him down in such a cruel way, at least according to Rosier.

“NEVER!”

“SEIZE HIM!” the face shouted. “Seize him! SEIZE HIM!”

“Master, I cannot hold him – my hands – my hands!”

“Then kill him, fool, and be done!”

Harry waited, the silence become almost deafening, if that was even possible. He swore he could hear his own blood as it travelled through his veins. Ever since Voldemort had said to kill Longbottom, the room lapsed into silence.

“KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” said the face. “YOU FOOL! KILL HIM!”

Harry took a breath when he heard a body slump the ground, a pitiful scream coming from the body as it did so. He peered his head around the pillar and heard a load scream and then something smashing. He ducked his head behind the pillar, his eyes wide.

After a minute of silence, he peered back around the pillar and saw the room empty, besides the fact that Neville Longbottom was in the center, just at the foot of the tall mirror, which had cracked and a piece of wood had been shattered from it. He walked towards the mirror, slowly, and waited for it to reveal his greatest desire, which should have changed since family was a pathetic desire and he wasn’t Longbottom and he had a family.

In the mirror, the uncracked bit, there was no Stone or even a trace resemblance of family. Instead, there was two people, one person was clearly himself and the other was a blond-haired boy, most likely Draco. The two of them were a little older, perhaps in their early twenties.

If he had looked down at the hands, he would have realized that the two young men had intertwined hands. But he didn’t.

He turned from the mirror, the moment his eyes left it, it fell, the magic supporting it vanishing, and it smashed onto the ground, falling glass side first. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding a few sharps of glass in the process.

He glanced at Longbottom’s body, ignoring the glass that had just smashed over the floor and scanned the boy. He sighed and let his eyes travel along the boy’s body, feeling disgusted that he had to do such a thing, but he had heard snippets and he was sure that Longbottom, in his ungodly Gryffindor way, had the Stone on his person.

It was the only thing that explained why Quirrell had tried to actual grab Longbottom with physical force, as if to grab the Stone.

Making a sound, he dropped down to his knees and began pushing his hands all over Longbottom, his fingers slipping into various pockets. It wasn’t until he saw a slight bulge on the side of Longbottom’s leg that he feared that he had done something wrong, but he slowly reached for it, knowing that it was the shape of a rock, or something like that.

“Salazar, please let this be the Stone,” he muttered, reaching forwards.

His fingers grazed across a rough surface and he smiled victoriously, his eyes going wide and a victorious glint filling them. His green eyes snapped straight to the blood red stone, his fingers holding it as if the Stone would crack if he squeezed too hard.

He had the Philosopher’s Stone. He had done it. It was his! All his!

‘ _You have your prize_ ,’ said Tom bitterly. ‘ _Now flee before you get caught_.’

Harry quickly and carefully tucked the Stone into his pocket, ignoring the grunt from Longbottom, who appeared to be in pain, and slowly walked from the chamber, noticing that the fire from Professor Snape’s room had vanished. He stepped through the archway with a spring in his step as he did so, not even caring if someone caught him practically skipping, well he did, as they’d know that he had the Stone, and he couldn’t have that.

He swiped a broom from Professor Flitwick’s room and soared off above the Devil’s Snare, that he slowly regrown from his vicious fire. He always wondered how quickly that plant would grow in the dark, add some dampness to it and it grew at a monstrous rate. He flew straight by Fluffy’s nose, the branches of the broom hitting the three-headed dog’s snout on the way, which caused the beast to wake up and snap at thin air. He threw the broom at the dog and watched as it was devoured and quickly snuck around the corner, fleeing the rom at a rapid rate, hearing voices just around the other corner.

Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall led a shaking Hermione Granger towards the room.

“Remain here, Miss. Granger,” said Dumbledore. “I’ll fetch him. I’m sure he’s alright.”

Harry, at that moment, felt as if he just got away with murder.

* * *

Most of the professors, or at least the ones that were privy to the information about the Philosopher’s Stone, were confused and shocked by its disappearance. The headmaster had proclaimed that the Stone was indeed destroyed and that Neville had done his job at securing the safety of the wizarding world.

Hermione Granger had shared the entire story in the Headmaster’s office, tears flowing down her face as she claimed that Ronald had been killed and that she had left Neville with Potter in the potion room and that Neville had gone in to face You-Know-Who, refusing to blame Professor Snape, as the man was indeed in his office marking papers, as Potter had said. She was promptly pushed along with the professors towards the third-floor and waited until the headmaster came back with Neville, but no Potter.

Harry simply said that the fire on one side fell and he left, hoping to get Professor Snape to help Longbottom, and that they must’ve crossed each other on a different corridor midway.

Albus Dumbledore was certain that the Stone had been destroyed along with the mirror in a rage by Voldemort.

Harry sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, waiting for the exam results, which were due to arrive today, the last day of the schoolyear. He watched as Professor Snape slowly began to hand out the letters slowly, slower than the other Heads of Houses, which annoyed him slightly.

“Here you are, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Snape, handing the letter over and continuing on up the table.

Harry held his results and gently ripped it open, revealing his grades.

**_ Passing grades _ **

_Outstanding_

_Exceeds Expectations_

_Acceptable_

**_ Failing grades _ **

_Poor_

_Dreadful_

_Troll_

**_ Astronomy _ ** _: Outstanding_

**_ Charms _ ** _: Outstanding+_

**_ Defence Against the Dark Arts _ ** _: Outstanding+_

**_ Herbology _ ** _: Outstanding_

**_ History of Magic _ ** _: Outstanding_

**_ Potions _ ** _: Outstanding+_

**_ Transfiguration _ ** _: Outstanding_

Harry almost dropped his results in shock. He had done it, gotten an Outstanding on every subject. He glanced down at the notes on the bottom and read them calmly, there wasn’t one for Astronomy, Herbology or History of Magic.

In Professor Flitwick’s elegant writing was the following: _Mr. Potter has been an excellent student, in both practical and theory knowledge. On his exam, his writing was neat and everything was written with the upmost care, allowing me to understand it all without squinting at something he had written. In classes, Mr. Potter was quick to hand in assignments and kept them at the exact length, never going over or under the length required. On the practical exam, Mr. Potter was one of two students in his year level to guess how to light the room with a spell correctly._

In what appeared to be Professor Quirrell’s writing was the following: _Mr. Potter will go places, he just needs the correct ambition. Perfect student. A prodigy._

In Professor Snape’s spidery writing was the following: _I did debate about removing points from Mr. Potter and striking him down from an Outstanding to an Exceeds Expectations because he didn’t make the potion correctly. Instead he simply changed the formula and altered the ingredients to make the same potion, but using less ingredients. As a Potions Master, I am proud. As a professor, I am displeased._

And finally, in Professor McGonagall’s writing was the following: _In the beginning of lessons, I always felt that Mr. Potter wasn’t applying himself in my class, his attention would often slip and he would sit in class and just stare at the ceiling, as if he was bored. I have seen the same pose and position often enough over the years, but this time around, I was wrong. Mr. Potter wasn’t bored or slacking, he was simply confused and followed in his father’s footsteps, at least regarding Transfiguration. As any students, previous or attending, are aware, my door is open to anyone, no matter the house, and Mr. Potter utilized that and applied himself using afterhours study lessons to achieve better marks. He would have received a plus, however he did get one question incorrect and it had to be removed. It’ll be attached below. (Mr. Potter, please come and see me so we can discuss this.)_

If Harry had to pick nay that was the most touching, it was Professor McGonagall’s. He spared the stern witch an approving glance, which she returned with a smile and focused on Draco, who had only just ripped open his exam results. “What’d you get, Draco?”

“Here, read it.”

**_ Astronomy _ ** _: Acceptable_

**_ Charms _ ** _: Exceeds Expectations_

**_ Defence Against the Dark Arts _ ** _: Outstanding_

**_ Herbology _ ** _: Exceeds Expectations_

**_ History of Magic _ ** _: Acceptable_

**_ Potions _ ** _: Outstanding_

**_ Transfiguration _ ** _: Outstanding_

“Not bad,” said Harry. “What’d you get, Rosie?”

“Prat,” said Rosier, grinning. “Astronomy, I got –”

“Just hand me the list!”

**_ Astronomy _ ** _: Acceptable_

**_ Charms _ ** _: Acceptable_

**_ Defence Against the Dark Arts _ ** _: Exceeds Expectations_

**_ Herbology _ ** _: Acceptable_

**_ History of Magic _ ** _: Dreadful_

**_ Potions _ ** _: Outstanding_

**_ Transfiguration _ ** _: Exceeds Expectations_

“That ‘Dreadful’ on History of Magic,” said Harry, shaking his head.

“Not my fault that the class was dreadful,” said Rosier. “I was simply just applying the same effort.”

“Another year gone!” said Dumbledore, causing the Great Hall to go silent instantly. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore after it quietened down. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”

The room went very still. The Slytherins’ smiles faded a little.

“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes. First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty-five points.”

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other Prefects. ‘My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!’ At last there was silence again.

“Second – to Miss. Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty-five points.”

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Neville strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves – they were a hundred and ten points up.

“Third – to Mr. Neville Longbottom,” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.’

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and eighty-two points – ten points ahead of Slytherin.

“He cannot do that!” hissed Harry, his hand clenched around the goblet that he was holding.

“He can, and he has,” said Draco, his grey eyes searching out the noise that he just heard.

Harry had released the cup, shortly after it began steaming, but he didn’t lift his hand, which had almost set fire to the table. The smell of burning wood assaulted the Slytherin table and they looked around curiously, some even glaring at the prank. His jaw was clenched shut tightly, if it did open he was sure it would have been to shout things unsuitable for children and would have resulted in him getting hit with a Scourgify per day, for thirty days.

“Harry, it’s just a cup!” whispered Draco, unaware that he had just caused a vast majority of the Slytherin house to ignore the headmaster and focus on the angry boy, who was passively burning tables with his anger.

It was perhaps more entertaining than whatever the headmaster was raving about.

“Calm down, Harry,” whispered Draco, shifting aside when a spark almost hit him. “You’re going to burn the table.”

“What a pyromaniac,” snorted Rosier. “Look at him!”

It took a few more moments, and a few more pleas, before Harry’s eyes went back to their slightly bright green and he unclenched his hands and flicked his head towards the headmaster, ignoring the looks that his house was giving him.

Rosier couldn’t help it, he broke down into a fit of giggles.

“What a fantastic speech,” said Professor McGonagall, clapping. “As the Deputy Headmistress, I take the education of the students seriously, no matter what house they may be in. I may be the Head of Gryffindor and that’s all that I may be known for, but I pride myself on being fair and not quick to submit or allow a decision to pass by without it being rewarded.”

The Great Hall fell silent, wondering what would prompt a speech.

“– one student has done something extraordinary, something I haven’t ever seen during my years at the school and since I began teaching,” continued Professor McGonagall, her stern face oddly soft. “I’m sure you all wish to eat, so I’ll wrap this up. One student received an ‘Outstanding’ on every subject, even scoring a few plus marks on his exams. Three, to be exact, one question from four. But this sheer amount of intelligence isn’t what I’m awarding him points for, no, he will receive my praise for his intelligence and ability to apply it when he needs to. He’s getting points for actively seeking out to better other students.”

Harry paused, staring at the Transfiguration Professor with some sort of odd look.

“I award fifteen points to Mr. Potter, from Slytherin, for his astonishing ability to help those in need, and try and assist everyone with knowledge. As well as fifteen points to Miss. Bones, for also taking out the initiative to seek out other houses when in need of assistance.”

The first table to clap was of course the Hufflepuff house and then the Slytherin house, followed by Ravenclaw.

Professor McGonagall sent Dumbledore a glance that closed the matter and promised a later discussion and sat down, allowing the banners of the Great Hall to remain Slytherin colours.

“You got an Outstanding on everything, Harry?” said Gemma, wrapping her arms around the smaller boy and engulfing him in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Of course I did,” said Harry, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m a genius.”

The Great Hall was still clapping, even Hufflepuff, who came in last, wholeheartedly for the moment. Even a select few Gryffindors were clapping, most shockingly enough, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.

* * *

Harry said his farewells to his house and then the Hufflepuff house, who were far more open to conversation with Slytherin now, even the upper years.

“I hope to verse you in Quidditch next year,” said Cedric Diggory, a challenging glint in his eyes. “I was reserve this year.”

“You bet!” replied Harry. “As for you, Susan, see what a bit of studying can do!”

The group laughed it off and eventually split up to meet their families.

Harry barely managed to balance himself when his mother flew out of nowhere and almost toppled him over with vampire like speed, which he had never seen before. Her was almost squashed to death by her fierce grip and hug as well. He was sure that it was similar to being squished by a troll.

“I missed you, Harry,” said Lily, pulling back with a huge grin on her face. “I missed you so much! The house was empty without you around.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” said Lily. “What did you get on your exam results? I was so excited to get mine that I almost fainted!”

“What do you think I got, mother?” Harry asked, smiling. “Oh, and I missed you too.”

“An ‘Outstanding’ on everything!” said Lily. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Just that, mother,” said Harry, smirking. He winced when his mother once again engulfed him into a tight hug and refused to let go. “You really shouldn’t expect any less than perfection from me.”

Lily gave her son one last squeeze before she let him go. She studied him closely, studying his features, which hadn’t appeared to have changed in the slightest in the year that he was gone. It was a good thing in her eyes, as her baby boy would always be just that. She knew that her son hardly even showed his age, you could look at him and see an eight year old, not an eleven year old and the moment he spoke, you’d think a fifteen year old.

She cupped his cheeks with her hands and smiled at him. “So who won the House Cup this year? I have heard from Severus recently that it has been Slytherin for the past seven years, is it eight or did it go into the wrong hands?”

Harry would never admit it out loud, but he did miss his mother while he was studying at Hogwarts, maybe it was because in a certain sense she treated him like an adult, besides the minor cradling that she does at times.

“Professor Dumbledore awarded Gryffindor one hundred and seventy points at the Leaving Feast and put them in first, by ten points,” he said bitterly. “But Professor McGonagall gave me fifteen points for being friendly with the other houses. You should have seen the headmaster’s face, it looked like he was having a brain aneurysm or something.”

Lily pursed her lips, not like the fact that her son had said something about a brain aneurysm and compared it to either shock or disbelief. “Minerva has always been a rather fair teacher, even in my days she tended to help every house and not just her own.”

Lily and Harry spoke about school for a couple of minutes before the more serious discussion had to come up. It didn’t slip Lily’s attention that no mention of James was made by Harry, nor was the fact that Harry seemed to look around for him like other students did.

“I cannot wait to go home and check on Nagini, I missed her the most – after you of course,” said Harry, smiling. His voice was soft and he stared directly at his mother. “Did she give you a hard time?”

“Not at all, she was rather entertaining at the best of times,” said Lily and then thought back. “She spent most of the time sleeping on your bed though, as if your scent was there and she took comfort in it.”

“Good, good,” said Harry, repeating the word for extra emphasis. He picked up his trunk and watched as a pained look filled his mother’s face and he almost dropped the trunk, wanting to rush over and make sure she was alright. “Mother? Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Lily pursed her lips into a very fine line, one that would remind most of Minerva McGonagall. She loved her how son cared for her and would drop everything to aid her and it made telling him this even harder. Why couldn’t James do it? “Harry, darling, I hate to be the one to say anything about this, and I didn’t even want to agree to it, but things came up and it’s the best option.”

“Oh.”

“I need you, sweetie, to spend the summer with my sister,” said Lily softly.

“Your sister?” repeated Harry. “I didn’t realize you had another sister, why have I never met her?”

“I only have one sister, Harry, you know that.”

“The Dursleys!” hissed Harry, his face morphing into one that resembled disgust. “They despise us, mother, they’re Muggles!”

“Harry –”

“Nothing is worth staying with the,” continued Harry, glaring at the ground. “They’ll make me clean things! Why can’t I just stay with Narcissa, Lucius and Draco? We even planned it a few weeks ago! I’m sure they’d love if I could spend all summer there.”

“Narcissa recently heard what James and I were planning to do this summer and they agreed to assist us,” said Lily. “Draco is spending the summer with his Aunt, Andromeda Tonks, for the summer holidays.”

“Why can’t I stay with Draco there?” asked Harry. “We could share a room, we always have.”

“I know you have,” said Lily.

“Just this year we slept in the same dormitory for ten months!”

“Andromeda has her own daughter to look after, Harry, and while she may be a Black by birth, she’s not exactly wealthy. She lives in a small townhouse with her husband and daughter, a three bedroom house,” said Lily. “If you did stay, you’d have to sleep on the floor or the sofa.”

Harry sighed. “I could just share a bed with Draco, we’ve done it before.”

“I spoke with Petunia and she agreed to let you stay over for the summer holidays. She and I worked out a cover story for Vernon and you’ll have to follow it, but she won’t mistreat you Harry, she and I worked things out years ago.”

“What about Nagini? I doubt that’d allow me to keep a snake that could eat them around, although I could just hide her in my trunk.”

“Harry, please don’t make this difficult,” said Lily, placing her hand onto her son’s shoulder. “I’m not asking you to like them or send them constant cards and display your appreciation, but I am asking you to act like you do.”

“Of course, it was one of the first things that I was taught regarding conversation,” said Harry. “Act like you’re appreciative when you’re not. It’ll be put to good use while I’m there.”

“I know that you’ll do fine while you’re there.”

“I’m not cleaning anything,” said Harry. “Do you remember what happened the last time that they forced me to do the dishes?”

“Yes, your magic flooded the house and James turned it into an aquarium and got himself banned from the house.”

“Good times.”

“Thank you, Harry,” said Lily, hugging her son once more. “I’ll keep looking after Nagini, I’m sure that she’ll be eased when promised a few rabbits and such things.”

“She’ll hate me forever,” groaned Harry. “I’ve never been away from her this long before. It’ll be almost two years before I’ve seen her.”

“She won’t forget you, Harry.”

“Oh,” said Harry, suddenly remembering something. “Before we go to the magic hating household, I need to place a book into my Gringotts vault.”

“We can do that,” said Lily, gripping her son’s shoulder. “What book?”

“It’s very rare and was a gift from Madam Pince, she gave it to me one day, telling me that I was like her son and that she wanted me to have it. It was her son’s book.”

“That’s nice of her,” said Lily.

“I don’t want it to get ruined or stolen, it’s very precious,” said Harry, caressing said book, which contained the Philosopher’s Stone tucked inside. Who knew that a dummy book would ever have some actual use? He would never butcher a proper book for such a task, no he would have done something else.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes, mother, let’s go.”


	23. Author Notes

**Update** : I cannot believe I forgot to post these notes. Not once, not twice, but three times!

* * *

I had a massive dilemma on where I should put this chapter or whether I should just stagger it all via small notes on each chapter. As you can tell, I decided to make it last so that people shouldn’t open it by accident and spoil themselves.

Oh, yes, this will contain a vast amount of spoilers! (Not really massive ones, but spoilers nonetheless).

Read on, if you will.

* * *

 **Harry** / **Draco**.

_The main pairing of this story is between two boys. Please note that the relationship will not be the primary focus of the story and you’re not bound to see much action between them. It will be there, you just won’t see it._

_I’m a gay male, so I do hope to get the relationship correct, so you needn’t worry about ‘bad’ slash._

* * *

**Canon Rewrite**.

_I’m sure you’ve noticed that this has stuck closely to canon with changes. There’s a reason why I’ve decided to stay on that path and not make a whole ‘knew’ story. Just note that if something happens differently than the story will take a new path for that particular plotline._

_I refuse to have everything happen the same and you’ll realise that as you read on._

_Things. Will. Be. Different!_

* * *

**PoV switches**.

_This may or may not be jarring for you. Harry is the main character, but so is Neville. The switches are made clear with a scene change and it’s made clear when another person has taken the spotlight._

* * *

“ **Harry is a jerk**!”

_I know. Many people adore that I have written him differently from most other people. He has a strong bark and a stronger bite. Don’t get used to it, as he calms down soon and that jerky attitude becomes something akin to hatred._

_Once the story progresses, you’ll see why he’s such a little git._

* * *

**Character Bashing**.

_Hopefully none. I’m out of the phase where Harry, or any other character, jumps up and calls out Dumbledore for his ‘evilness’. Dumbledore isn’t evil. I frequently make fun of these tropes with dialog. Ten points if you point them out._

* * *

**Magic**!

_I wanted a unique RPG magical system, but many people dislike ‘mana’. I also dislike it, to some extent. Mind magic is Harry’s strongest suit, and it has been ‘amped’ up for him. When the term ‘mindscape’ is used, I mean it in the form of what you see when you close your eyes._

_For example: I’m closing my eyes and I’m visualising a creek and a few rocks. That’s my mindscape because I’m picturing it._

_None of this is explained in the series and I expect confusion. Remember, Harry’s the only person that can do this and see it. Dumbledore doesn’t have a mindscape, nor does Voldemort, nor does Neville. Only Harry._

_Harry attempts to explain where magic comes from, but hardly gets close._

* * *

**Harry is a chronic liar**.

_The quicker you learn this, the more you’ll understand. Take what he says with a grain of salt._

* * *

I think that’s all, at least for now. I didn’t want to spoil too much of the fic with my petty ramblings, but I have seen a few people drop fics because of what’s being done. Sadly, not many comment on why they leave, instead leaving writers to guestimate on _why_ comments and views are slowing down.

I appreciate all comments and feedback, no matter how ‘rude’ it may see.

* * *

 **Friend** : So, Sean, how long do you plan for this to be?

 **Me** : I dunno. I’m hoping for 2.2m words.

 **Friend** : Dedication!

 **Me** : Eh. I just wanna learn how to write better so I can release a book.

 **Friend** : Have you learned much?

 **Me** : *nods*


End file.
